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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30004536">The Omicron Incident</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Popcornjones/pseuds/Popcornjones'>Popcornjones</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Effects of Radiation on Romantic Love Among Men [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek, Star Trek Online, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood and Injury, Falling In Love, Kelvin Timeline (Star Trek), M/M, Macguffin radiation, McCoy worries about the age difference, Narrow Escapes, Other, Pasha &amp; Leo, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Star Trek (2009), Post-Star Trek: Into Darkness, Stranded, Suggestions of McKirk, Trying to survive, Vulcan Mind Meld, Zombie Apocalypse, admitting they're in love, cut off from the Enterprise, grabbing at any scrap of happiness before they die, pandemic apocalypse, sex and fluff, stranded in a post-apocalyptic wasteland</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 20:20:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>76,992</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30004536</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Popcornjones/pseuds/Popcornjones</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Government of the Omicron Settlement appeals to the Federation for help with a virus that is sweeping across the planet. Starfleet tasks the Enterprise with collecting and delivering a supply of rare medicinal plants to help combat the pandemic. Captain Kirk, Commander Spock, Doctor McCoy, and Lieutenant Chekov lead a landing party to Settlement City on the surface of Omicron to hand deliver the rare resource directly to the Federation scientists at Galbraith Station in hopes of synthesizing a cure — or even a treatment.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Pavel Chekov &amp; Leonard "Bones" McCoy, Pavel Chekov/Leonard "Bones" McCoy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Effects of Radiation on Romantic Love Among Men [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2241249</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Landing Party</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Subscribe for regular updates!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>Captain’s log, stardate 2263.67: the Enterprise has been tasked with collecting a rare medicinal plant, rory-rua, from Iblimi 6 and transporting it to the Omicron Settlement where a pandemic has broken out. Doctor McCoy has been in contact with Federation scientists at the Galbraith Station on Omicron, who are coordinating planetary efforts to combat the pandemic. It is hoped that rory-rua will provide the missing element needed for a treatment and/or vaccine.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>The Omicron Settlement was founded on the principles of sustainability and harmony with nature. Those principles have been aided by the presence of the eponymous radiation in the atmosphere, which creates serious communication issues with the outside world. The founders used the planet’s isolation to create an Edenic retreat where nothing is wasted, and everything recycled. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>It is my hope that the natural communication difficulty is to blame for the lack of contact as we approach, and not a complication of the pandemic.  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>I’m leading a landing party — in a shuttle, omicron radiation also makes beaming impossible — with specially enhanced comms. The landing party will keep in contact with the shuttle, who will relay our reports to the Enterprise. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Lieutenant Chekov has an uncle at Galbraith Station. I’ve asked him to pilot the shuttlecraft to give them a chance to catch up.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>“You can open your eyes, Bones.” The Captain drawled. “We’re on the ground.”</p><p>“Funny.” The doctor said (opening his eyes.) “You’re funny, Jim.”</p><p>“Zhe landing vas zo perfect, you did not ewen feel it, Doktor.” Chekov said in his earnest way, his voice pitched only for McCoy to hear.</p><p>Surprised, McCoy snapped at Chekov. “Is that supposed to be a joke, Lieutenant?” He hid his wince. It wasn’t his best moment — he <i>hadn’t</i> felt the landing. He should be thanking the kid.</p><p>Chekov appeared unphased. “Of course not, Doktor. Russians do not <i>joke</i>.” He deadpanned.</p><p>Jim, the jerk, laughed. “He’s got you there, Bones.” He turned to Spock. “Everything in order?”</p><p>The science officer had finished the scans he’d been taking on the trip down. “It appears so, Captain.”</p><p>“Chekov, let Sulu know we’ve landed safely. We’ll check in in two hours.”</p><p>“Yes, Keptin.” The Lieutenant opened a channel on the shuttle’s communications system. Scotty had boosted its function to pierce the atmospheric radiation around the Omicron Settlement. They all listened as he hailed the Enterprise. The link sounded staticky to McCoy. He didn’t like it. As soon as they left the shuttle, they would be out of contact with the ship. </p><p>“Ensign Laufferty?” McCoy sighed under his breath as Jim leered at the young communications specialist. </p><p>“Captain?” Laufferty had blond curls in a complicated updo around his pretty face, and his legs looked long and shapely in the short red dress and black boots. Exactly Jim’s type. </p><p>“You’ll stay in the shuttle.” The Captain brandished his communicator. “We’ll be able to contact you here, and you can relay any messages to the ship.”</p><p>McCoy rolled his eyes — Jim said it like the Ensign hadn’t been briefed at length by Uhura, and then sat in at the official briefing.</p><p>“Of course, Captain.” The Ensign smiled sweetly at Kirk. It gave the Doctor a toothache. A glance at Spock told him nothing of course, but Chekov met his disapproving glare with a hint of exasperation. McCoy hoped Kirk had never gone after the young Russian — he wasn’t seventeen anymore, but he was still way too young for an old dog like Jim.</p><p>McCoy knew he wasn’t being fair. As attractive as Chekov was, Jim mostly responded to the <i>invitation</i> — the invitation that Laufferty was issuing in spades.</p><p>With a brusque, “Well then!” the Captain addressed the two security crew at the back of the shuttle. “Are we ready?”</p><p>“Yes sir.” Crewman Strong answered. She was a squat, densely muscular Human from a high-gravity world. McCoy had seen her wrestle in the sparring gym — it was impossible to knock her off her feet. He’d made more than a few credits betting on her during their last shore leave. She liked good bourbon too, he remembered.</p><p>“Let’s go.” The Captain said.</p><p>“Hold your horses.” McCoy exclaimed. “Hazard suits and bio-filters. There’s a pandemic on this rock and I’d rather not bring it back to the Enterprise in our bloodstreams.”</p><p>“Fine.” The Captain pouted. He didn’t care for the look of the hazard suit — it was a form-fitting gray over-suit with a clear helmet. The bio-filter attached to the helmet and — ideally — filtered out all pathogens. It also filtered sound — each helmet was equipped with microphone and receiver. He’d be hearing Jim’s voice in a jar. </p><p>McCoy tossed Jim his suit kit and began to open his own.</p><p>It was all contained within the helmet. McCoy pulled the bio-filter out and attached it to the back of the helmet then placed it on his head. He felt for the activation button and when he found it, the gray suit extended from the helmet and covered his blue tunic, black pants and boots entirely.</p><p>“Comms check McCoy.” He said and everyone lifted a hand to indicate they’d heard him. </p><p>“Comms check Kirk” “Comms check Spock” “Comms check Chekov.” …</p><p>When they were all suited up and had confirmed the communications links, Chekov triggered the door and the back of the shuttle opened revealing the breathtaking beauty of Omicron. The shuttle was on a vibrantly green landing pad, surrounded by a meadow of long blue grasses dotted with wildflowers that swayed in the breeze. A forest of trees with leaves varying from deep navy to lavender edged the meadow and snow-capped mountains loomed behind the violet trees. Tiny, butterfly-like mammals flitted from flower to flower. It was gorgeous.</p><p>It was also <i>brisk</i>. Doctor McCoy slipped on the jacket he’d been issued for the trip over the gray hazard suit — and wished it had come with gloves. Grumbling, he hoisted the container of rory-rua and slipped the strap over his head and across his body, to wear the unwieldy thing on his hip. Anywhere else, he’d have an anti-grav sled, but non-sustainable conveniences like the sled weren’t allowed on Omicron — even if he would have taken it right back to the Enterprise. </p><p>Only spaceships and shuttles and certain small personal items carried by interstellar visitors were given dispensation from the rule of sustainability.</p><p>The Doctor made sure he had his medical tricorder strapped to his other hip and watched as Chekov fastened his own jacket and holstered a phaser — both items they were allowed to carry with them, along with their communicators — then he followed the Captain out into the bright, slightly blue, sunlight.</p><p>The landing pad was attached to a woven bamboo-like walkway leading to a domed prefab welcome center. The area appeared to be deserted, not a soul in sight. It was eerily silent.</p><p>“Wasn’t there supposed to be some kind of welcome party?” McCoy asked. He hadn’t paid a lot of attention in the briefing — he’d had enough to do preparing for the pandemic — but he knew planetary dignitaries and scientists were going to meet them at the shuttle. “Doctor Flevin was eager enough for this.” He thumped the heavy container on his hip.</p><p>“Yes, there was.” The Captain sounded more curious than irritated — even with the slightly muffled quality from the helmet. He gestured and they followed him to the welcome center. He opened the door and stepped into the single large room lit by skylights. There was soft furniture and a reception area, all empty. Jim tapped his helmet activating the broadcast mode. “Hallo?” The Captain’s voice echoed in the chamber.</p><p>“Fascinating.” Spock had his tricorder out and was scanning outside of the center. “There are life signs everywhere — thousands of them — just as there were when we landed.”</p><p>“Where is everyone?”</p><p>He turned in a slow half-circle. “In the forest. In the buildings. Farther in the city.”</p><p>McCoy stared at the forest — it seemed to move, to <i>writhe</i>. It was just the wind in the leaves, but it was unnerving. It made his skin crawl.</p><p>The Captain tapped the side of his helmet again, switching to a hailing frequency. “Laufferty, can you get Governor Peb on the line?”</p><p>“Just a moment, sir.” They waited, listening to the young Ensign hailing the Governor over and over. “I’m sorry, sir. There’s no answer.”</p><p>“Thank you, Ensign. Keep trying.”</p><p>“Yes sir.”</p><p>“Come on.” Tapping his helmet harder than was strictly necessary to end the link, Kirk led them past the welcome center to a series of the pod buildings for which Omicron Settlement was famous, several of which appeared to be beginning to disintegrate, the graceful arcs at the top withering and collapsing. Their footfalls were muffled, the tall pod structures absorbing sound.</p><p>“I don’t like this.” McCoy said as they walked along. </p><p>“I see someone!” Crewman Shirr, the other security guard, exclaimed. The big Andorian’s antennae were twisting around inside his helmet almost like radar. “There, in those trees.” He pointed at a small copse of trees with thick, blue foliage.</p><p>Spock held up his tricorder. “There are a number of humanoid life signs in that area.” He confirmed.</p><p>“Wait.” McCoy snapped before Jim could go skipping headlong into trouble again. “We should avoid anyone acting strangely. I’d say lurking in the trees is strange.”</p><p>“The Doctor is correct.” Spock said. “We should proceed directly to Galbraith Science Station.”</p><p>“I want to talk to one of these people, Bones.” The Captain said with that mulish look he got when he wasn’t going to talked out of something. “I’m <i>wearing the suit</i>.” </p><p>“The suit can be damaged.” McCoy muttered.</p><p>“Keptin!” Chekov called from the entrance of a building that he’d been examining. “Look at zhis!”</p><p>Responding to the urgency in the Lieutenant’s voice, they all went to see what Chekov had found. The door to the building had been broken in, long knife cuts — or maybe the claw marks of a large animal — carved in its surface, and lay in shriveling pieces. “Zhat ees blood. A lot of blood.”</p><p>Spock’s tricorder was providing confirmation, but Doctor McCoy’s experienced eyes didn’t need confirmation — there were splatters of dried blood all over the doorway to the pod. And more of the knife cuts.</p><p>“There is evidence of blood on many of the buildings… and on the walkway.” Spock told them, making McCoy shift his feet nervously, looking for the gore underneath them. </p><p>“We should take a sample — it’s probably infected with the virus.” McCoy sighed. “Doctor Flevin said victims bleed from their orifices — which ain’t a nice way to go.”</p><p>“Indeed, Doctor.” Spock confirmed. “Yet there are thousands of life signs in the forest and thousands upon thousands in the city… strange...” He drew his eyebrows down in what passed for a frown. “You are aware of the Omicron Settlement’s dedication to sustainable practices.”</p><p>“Yeah, we’re all <i>aware</i>.” McCoy said, with only a small eye roll.</p><p>“Everything manufactured, including the buildings, are designed to disintegrate when they have outlived their usefulness. When the skin cells that humanoids shed drop below a certain level, it triggers a recycling process. You can see, many of these buildings have begun that process.” Spock pointed out the withering roof of a nearby pod. “This suggests that many of the buildings are not being used. Yet there are hundreds of thousands of people in the city.”</p><p>“More questions for the science team.” Kirk said. “And the governor.” He turned in a slow circle, examining the buildings, the trees, the mountains and sky — the beauty — all around them. “I think we should split up. Spock and I and Crewman Shirr are going to go to the Settlement City Governmental Hall to talk to the planetary Governor. The situation on the ground has changed and we need to get a handle on how. Bones, you and Chekov take Strong and head to Galbraith Station. Spock, check in with Laufferty, have him relay your findings so far.”</p><p>As the Vulcan tapped his helmet, McCoy took the Captain’s arm. “Jim,” he said pressing his helmet against the Captain’s, so they could have a private conversation. “Are you sure it’s a good idea for us to split up? Doesn’t take a genius to know something really ain’t right here. Maybe we should all go to Galbraith Station together.”</p><p>“I need to talk to the Governor, Bones.” The Captain told him, sounding especially tinny in McCoy’s helmet. “About more than just the pandemic. But you’re right, something strange is going on here — that’s why I brought our two best security officers. Strong will get you to the Station. And with Shirr, Spock and I can’t fail.” His boyish smile said <i>trust me</i>, but that didn’t work on McCoy anymore.</p><p>“Just don’t forget, if you catch this thing, Captain or not, you’re stuck here bleedin’ out of your ass. No one’s bringing this virus onto the Enterprise.” </p><p>“Isn’t that what this is for.” Kirk flicked the heavy container on McCoy’s hip.</p><p>“Who knows?” McCoy snapped. “It’s promisin’, but it’s not panacea. There’s no guarantee it’ll work. Don’t be cavalier about this disease thinkin’ there’s a silver bullet. There ain’t.”</p><p>“Your accent comes out when you’re upset, Bones.”</p><p>“Means you should listen to me!”</p><p>Kirk nodded and for a second McCoy thought the Captain was taking him seriously. Then he pulled away and asked, “Spock, are you ready?” And McCoy knew his warnings had fallen on deaf ears.</p><p>“Keep him out of trouble, Spock.” McCoy said desultorily.</p><p>“Of course, Doctor.” The Vulcan replied. McCoy could never tell if Spock took his warnings to heart or thought he was foolish for offering them.</p><p>It was moot now. McCoy watched the Captain walk away with Spock and the big Andorian security officer trailing him, then he turned to Chekov with a sigh. “You know the way to Galbraith Station?”</p><p>“Yes, Doktor.” The Lieutenant said, holding out his tricorder. “Eet ees zhis vay.”</p><p>With a grim smile at Strong, McCoy followed Chekov directly towards the afternoon sun. The white-blue glare reflected on his helmet and dazzled McCoy’s eyes.</p><p>It was a longer walk than McCoy expected. As much as he disliked beaming, he appreciated how often they were able to beam down to a spot close to their destination. Omicron Settlement only allowed ships and shuttles to land in certain areas. If they’d been met, presumably there would have been some sort of conveyance to the science station — something like the elevated tram lines that arced over their heads... or the hover car crashed into the tree that lay across the road.</p><p>“Zhis has been here for several days, at least.” Chekov said, after waving his tricorder over the impact point. “Look. More blood.”</p><p>McCoy looked. There was splatter inside of the hovercar. In the back seat, he could make out a child’s soft toy, brown and matted with dried blood.</p><p>There was more dried blood splatter on the trunk of the fallen tree.</p><p>“This doesn’t look like a pandemic.” Strong said.</p><p>McCoy glanced at her — she didn’t say much, speaking only when she felt it necessary. “What does it look like?” He asked, though he knew what she would say.</p><p>“Spree murder.”</p><p>Chekov looked between them uneasily. “People do all sorts of zhings vhen zhey are desperate.” He muttered. McCoy and Strong followed him over the tree trunk. </p><p>McCoy felt unsettled. The kid was right — all sorts of desperate things had happened here.</p><p>The deeper they walked into the city, the more evidence of that desperation they found — a street with deserted cars and trucks as far as they could see. Abandoned suitcases. Household items strewn from the door of a pod home across the walkway. Many buildings with the doors and windows hanging open or lying in shriveled pieces. A wheelbarrow with a replicator in it, cables trailing behind. A cricket bat. And everywhere, blood. Some of it fresh.</p><p>The knife cuts were everywhere — so ubiquitous, they couldn’t be knife cuts. McCoy would say they were claw marks… but from what?</p><p>Fewer of the buildings were deteriorating in this neighborhood. And maybe it was McCoy imagination, but the shadows were moving. He’d see it out of the corner of his eye — the shadow of a pod building changing shape. But when his head snapped around, it was still. Not that he took a closer look. As far as Doctor McCoy was concerned, the faster they were inside Galbraith Station (and he could put down this blasted heavy container of rory-rua!), the better.</p><p>Finally, Chekov lowered his tricorder and announced, “Eet should be just up here.” McCoy had never heard more beautiful words. </p><p>The station was right where Chekov said it would be, fully intact — and locked up tight. The windows were shuttered and there was no answer to the bell. After a minute, McCoy stopped bothering with the bell and knocked, well, pounded, on the door. </p><p>He couldn’t say he was very surprised. Despite all the life signs, they hadn’t seen a single person.</p><p>“Is anyone in there?” McCoy asked Chekov, unstrapping the ridiculously large and heavy container of rory-rua and setting it on the ground. With a stifled groan, he stretched his back and shoulders. He was a doctor, not a pack mule!</p><p>“Da — yes, Doctor. Zhere are zhree humanoid life signs een zhe station.”</p><p>“Three?” There were over two hundred Federation scientists at Galbraith Station. “Let the shuttle know our situation.” McCoy directed. Strong tapped her helmet at once and her lips began moving.</p><p>McCoy set his helmet to “broadcast” and pounded on the door again. “Hey! Galbraith Station!” He yelled. “It’s Starfleet! With your delivery! The miracle cure! Hey!” He turned back to Chekov with an impatient huff and switched the helmet back to normal mode “Can you reach your uncle?”</p><p>“Let me try.” Chekov tapped his helmet and used his tricorder to scan for frequencies. “Lieutenant Chekov of the Enterprise, calling for Doktor Lev Romanovich Chekov of Galbraith Station… repeat. Lieutenant Pavel Andreievich Chekov for Doktor Lev Romanovich Chek —”</p><p>…<i>Pasha! Vhat are you doing here!?</i>…</p><p>“Uncle Lev! Ve are outside of zhe Station. Ve haf zhe medicine, zhe rory-rua…”</p><p>…<i>You are outside!? Nyet! No! Pasha, you cannot!</i>…</p><p>As McCoy was listening to the conversation, the sun began to dip rapidly below the distant mountains, lengthening the shadows in the city. One of Omicron’s moons sat ruddy and small overhead.</p><p>Strong finished speaking with Laufferty in the shuttle and looked around, frowning at the sudden dusk.</p><p>“Ve are here, Uncle. Can you let us een?”</p><p>A long stream of staticky Russian flowed from the communicator. McCoy had the distinct impression Uncle Lev was swearing a blue streak.</p><p>“He vill open zhe door.” Chekov told him, tapping his helmet to break the connection. “He ees... frightened.”</p><p>“Maybe he can tell us what on God’s green earth happened here.” McCoy muttered.</p><p>“Sir!” The alarm in Strong’s voice had both McCoy and Chekov’s immediate attention. “Look.”</p><p>McCoy looked. The shadows were definitely moving now — and making noise, an unsettling click-clacking sound. He could make out figures shuffling forwards from the darkest depths to the merely dim. They were humanoid, but their movements were jerky and tortured. Their skin was black making them difficult to discern from the shadows and from each other. As they tottered closer, McCoy saw that they were bald and mostly nude, what clothes they wore disintegrating like the abandoned pod buildings. They had no visible sex characteristics, unlike most humanoids, their smooth torsos marred only by trails of blood. The worst were their faces, where blood flowed freely from large, entirely black eyes, and slack mouths showing bloody teeth.</p><p>“Vhat are zhey?”  Chekov asked, his voice tinged with horror.</p><p>“I believe,” McCoy said grimly. “That we are looking at the pandemic — at people infected with the virus.” </p><p>“Chekov’s eyes opened wide. “Zhat!? Zhat ees vhat zhe wirus does!?”</p><p>“Holy fucking hell.” Strong muttered and McCoy agreed wholeheartedly. This wasn't just bleeding from the orifices — this was… this was <i>something else entirely</i>!</p><p>“Think we can convince ’em we don’t want any trouble?” McCoy asked. </p><p>Strong set her helmet to “broadcast.” “Stand back.” She commanded the tottering figures. “Don’t come any closer.”</p><p>They ignored the warnings, not missing a step.</p><p>“This is what the hazard suits are for.” McCoy said. “Keep your helmets on and your air filter in place. We don’t know how this virus is passed. Whatever you do, <i>don’t touch anyone</i>.” McCoy watched them coming. He hoped there was something he could do for them. </p><p>“I don’t think they hear us, Doctor.” Strong said. “They aren’t stopping.”</p><p>They clacked and chattered their teeth together and reached out with long claws.</p><p><i>Claws</i>!</p><p>“Sir, what do we do if they don’t stop?” Strong asked. </p><p>McCoy swore out loud. “Phasers on stun — warn them that we will shoot if they don’t keep their distance, but no lethal force. We don’t want to kill anyone that could still be cured.”</p><p>“You zhink zhey can be <i>cured</i>?!” Chekov asked, his horror evident.</p><p>“I don’t know, Lieutenant.” McCoy said with authority. “But if there’s a chance, I want them to have it.”</p><p>His tone penetrated, Chekov snapped to attention. “Yes sir.” </p><p>The crowd of black figures — and it was a crowd, they were pouring into the street from the shadows as far as they could see — had shuffled closer, all their attention on the trio outside Galbraith Station. They showed no sign of hearing their questions or warnings.</p><p>“Do not come any closer.” Strong’s voice carried down the street. “We will shoot. We do not want to hurt you. This is a warning, do not come any closer.”</p><p>When the first few were two meters away, Strong aimed and fired and the figures dropped. She had set her phaser on ‘wide.’ Chekov hurried to adjust his phaser to the same setting and dropped three coming at them from the side.</p><p>McCoy hadn’t even seen them! He picked up the container of rory-rua and, ignoring his complaining muscles, strapped it across his body again. He put his back to Galbraith Station and pulled his medical scanner. He wanted to learn as much as he could about the disease. Up close, McCoy saw that their skin wasn’t black, but a very dark purple, as if blood was trapped under their skin. It was inflamed, the darkened skin, angry-looking, and when they fell their blood splashed and poured out over the pavement. It was difficult for McCoy to keep a clinical mindset — the part of him that wanted to shriek, and shudder was close to breaking out.</p><p>Strong was shooting almost constantly, Chekov picking off the steady stream emerging from a narrow alley on their left. McCoy had hoped that seeing the vanguard being shot would stop the rest. It did not. They maintained a single-minded focus on reaching the three from the Enterprise. Even the bodies of their fellows did not hinder the oncoming horde — their jerky movements were surprisingly agile, and their slow but steady pace never changed. </p><p>“Where is your uncle?” McCoy shouted at Chekov. </p><p>“I do not know, Doktor.” Chekov said. “He knows zhat ve are here.”</p><p>McCoy huffed impatiently. “Does he know that <i>they’re</i> here?! Shit!” Two had got past Strong’s phaser and were grabbing for her with clawed hands. “Don’t let them touch you!” McCoy cried and rushed up with the container of rory-rua held high and used it to repel one of the attackers, pushing them to the ground where Strong shot it. The other was still clinging to her other arm, clacking their teeth together unpleasantly until she shot it point blank. </p><p>The few seconds that took was enough for a dozen more to bear down on them. Chekov was still shooting, but there were too many! McCoy retreated to the doorway of Galbraith Station, dragging Chekov with him. “Get behind me, Lieutenant.” He ordered, holding up the unwieldy container as a barrier between them and the infected horde. Chekov continued firing at the jerky, black figures emerging on their flank.</p><p>Strong was fighting hand to hand, using the phaser when she could, throwing them back bodily when she couldn’t. She was effectively keeping them away from McCoy and Chekov, but that couldn’t last long. McCoy shoved another with the container, and they squelched on impact, blood and fluids splattering as they fell back. They immediately came at him again and McCoy shoved it again. Carrying the goddam container had been hell, but he was glad to have it now!</p><p>“Pasha! Pasha! Hurry!”</p><p>“Doktor! My Uncle ees here!”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Galbraith Station</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>DAY ONE: after dark</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The door to Galbraith Station was open! “Strong!” McCoy bellowed. “Door’s open!”</p><p>The mesomorphic crewman began backing towards them, still repelling infected people. McCoy was <i>very</i> glad for the helmets — blood was spattered across hers.</p><p>Chekov shot three of the black figures, shoved McCoy into the Station, shot six more, then backed in just in front of Strong who shot and then pulled the door closed with a clang.</p><p>Immediately, a figure in a yellow-tinged bio-hazard suit rammed a thick metallic bar across the door, barring it. McCoy thought he was done, but another bar went across the door and then another. Then the person pushed a large cabinet in front of the door. Chekov began to help, and McCoy noticed the stack of furniture that was being systematically piled against the door. No wonder it had taken so long to open it.</p><p>Strong reached up to open her helmet, but the person in the bio-hazard suit grabbed her arm. “Leave eet on.” </p><p>She nodded and dropped her hands. McCoy approved — Strong’s helmet, coat and hazard suit were splattered with blood. Chekov appeared clean, but McCoy checked himself and saw spatter on the front of his jacket too. He remembered the squelch as he’d shoved the infected person away with the rory-rua. One side of the container looked like it was covered in strawberry jam.</p><p>McCoy felt queasy.</p><p>When they finished stacking heavy furniture against the door, the person in the bio-hazard suit — Chekov’s uncle, surely — led them through another door, which he also locked and barred. The only thing in the room was the entrance to a white temporary tunnel, the sort one erected when they wanted to protect the environment from biohazards. </p><p>The tunnel took them on a long and circuitous course — they must be traversing a significant chunk of the station — and finally opened up into a laboratory changing room and decontaminating showers. Here the man in the bio-hazard suit finally spoke.</p><p>“Ve have all been exposed to zhe Zed-56-O.S. wirus.” He said. “Please place your equipment on zhe shelf for decontamination. All of our clothing must be placed een zhe baskets — red for outer clothing, yellow for inner. And zhen ve all must shower zhoroughly. After zhe shower ve vill submit to a blood test. Eef zhe blood test is clear, zhen ve vill talk.”</p><p>“And if it isn’t?” McCoy asked.</p><p>“You vill be placed in quarantine.” He tapped his shoulder and his bio-hazard suit retracted, curling outside-in into a small brown ball. </p><p>“Uncle Lev!”</p><p>“Pasha… I have much to tell you… after zhe test, da?” </p><p>“Da.” Chekov agreed.</p><p>McCoy scanned the atmosphere with his tricorder. “How is the virus passed?” He asked. “Is it airborne?”</p><p>“No. Fluids only.” The old man told him. “Given zhe rapidity of transmission, ve zhought eet had to be airborne. But az you experienced, zhe wirus compels eets carriers to spread zheir fluids liberally.”</p><p>“Is that what they were doing.” McCoy muttered.</p><p>“Da, eet ees hallmark of zhe disease. Equipment on zhe shelf, please.”</p><p>“Right.” McCoy set his medical tricorder next to Chekov’s science-focused tricorder and phaser and stacked his communicator with the other two. Then he laboriously unstrapped the heavy container of the rare medicinal plant. “Is Doctor Flevin here? This is the rory-rua.” McCoy said pointedly. “This is <i>all</i> the rory-rua in seven sectors.”</p><p>He was very cognizant — Starfleet had made sure — of the value of the medicinal plant. If it could not be used here, it needed to be returned. There was a list a mile long of people dying on other planets as they waited for the rare plant. The amount McCoy had carried across the city was enough to satisfy fifty planets.</p><p>Chekov’s uncle looked at the soiled container with undisguised dismay. He’d already pulled on a pair of latex gloves and taken off the sweater he’d worn under the bio-hazard suit. “It must be decontaminated.” He said and nodded at the shelf.</p><p>McCoy lifted it onto the shelf next to Strong’s phaser thinking it was an incongruous treasure chest. Chekov already had his helmet and coat off and Strong was deactivating her gray hazard suit. McCoy twisted his helmet and pulled it from his head. </p><p>The air had a slight tang to it — the odor of the decontamination showers, he realized. He dropped the helmet in the red basked and unsealed the coat. It wasn’t as cold as it was outdoors, but it certainly wasn’t warm in Galbraith Station either — at least not in this part. And McCoy hadn’t removed the hazard suit yet.</p><p>Deactivating the suit caused it to retract into a ring around his neck. Donning gloves, McCoy pulled it over his head and tossed it in the basket with his other outer clothing. He fingered his comm badge for a long few seconds before putting it on the shelf with his tricorder. He didn’t like being without it even if the Enterprise couldn’t see the identifying badge through the atmospheric radiation. McCoy hadn’t realized the sense of security it gave him until he took it off.  </p><p>Chekov’s uncle had stripped down to a set of thermal underwear and socks that he wasted no time removing. For an elderly man, he was fit and well-muscled. McCoy was impressed. After a quiet word with his nephew, the man walked through the archway into the showers and McCoy heard them turn on. A moment later, their pungent smell rolled through the changing room.</p><p>Strong made a noise with her tongue that McCoy interpreted as irritation. Once again, he agreed with her wholeheartedly.</p><p>McCoy took his boots off and looked up to see Chekov pull his gold and black shirts over his head at once revealing his slim, perfect torso. The muscle under his skin twitched and flexed as the young body moved. Abruptly, the doctor was conscious that he was stripping in front of the twenty-year-old Russian. </p><p>Normally, he would make a joke about it — to needle Jim mostly, and to blow off some of his nerves. Something along the lines of ‘<i>I usually like to get naked with a beautiful young thing, but this isn’t exactly what I had in mind…</i>’ But the jokes froze in his throat as his eyes roamed over the kid’s flat stomach and smooth chest.</p><p>Chastising himself, McCoy yanked off his own shirt. He was in good shape for his age — Starfleet demanded that — but nothing like Chekov. He was broader and hairier and carried a stubborn layer of softness over his six-pack. </p><p>Strong was hard all over, no softness anywhere, even her small breasts firm and muscular. She did not appear to have any shyness about stripping off in front of her crewmates, so McCoy got over himself and hooked his thumbs in the band of his pants and boxer briefs at once and took them down, stepping out of them and tossing them into the basket. An involuntary glance at Chekov and he saw the kid was staring at him, a lovely red flush on his cheeks and chest.</p><p>The doctor let him look. He’d never bothered much with “manscaping” — barely at all since the early days of his marriage — so the kid would see exactly what he was: a hairy old man well past his glory days. Let him feast his eyes!</p><p>At least his ass was still firm and shapely. Hating himself a little, McCoy turned his back on Chekov to let him admire the rear view as he took off the gloves and dropped them in the basket. Squaring his shoulders, he walked into the showers.</p><p>McCoy had never known anyone who’d gotten used to the smell of decontamination showers. Or the feel. The liquid was thicker than water and slightly viscous and it stuck to hair and skin leaving an unpleasantly oily residue. But it killed bacteria and viruses, both domestic and alien — Starfleet had yet to find the nasty bug that could survive it. He’d even known an anosmiac in med school who claimed to gargle with the stuff when he caught a cold. Cleared it right up, he said. McCoy would rather suffer through a miserable cold than willingly put decontamination fluid anywhere near his mouth.</p><p>He let the chilly fluid cascade over his body, suppressing a shudder. Then he gritted his teeth and stuck his head under, working it into his hair and, after screwing his eyes and mouth firmly shut, turning his face into it. He washed with it, rubbing it into his skin like soap — along his arms, his chest, his neck, under his arms, his belly, between his legs, his ass, his thighs, calves and feet. McCoy didn’t skimp — it would be worse to have to come back and start over. </p><p>When he wiped his face and looked around, Chekov and Strong were both in the room with him, stoically getting on with it. McCoy left them, following Chekov’s uncle through a closed door into another communal shower room, this one equipped with water, soap, shampoo, and various other bodily cleansers — some he recognized were used by non-humans.</p><p>Of course, not all the scientists at Galbraith Station were Human.</p><p>McCoy grabbed a bar of soap and handful of shampoo and stood under a showerhead. It sprayed a strong stream of tepid water — after the cold decontamination shower, it felt downright warm. He scrubbed the shampoo into his hair, trying to rid it of the viscous, foul-smelling fluid. He rubbed the soap into his skin, repeating what he’d done in the previous shower, only with more vigor. Chekov and then Strong came in and Chekov’s uncle was, by McCoy’s count, washing his hair a third time. McCoy got himself another big handful of shampoo, absently admiring the young Lieutenant’s ass and lean runner’s legs as he walked by. </p><p><i>It wasn’t fair how incredibly lovely the kid was</i>! Slim and pale, his legs well-muscled and covered with sandy hair. </p><p><i>His body hair is blonder than the hair on his head</i>. The thought leapt unbidden into McCoy’s brain as his eyes found the kids treasure trail and where it led...</p><p>He forced his attention away from Chekov, feeling like a perv, thrusting his head under the cool water.</p><p>When his fingers were pruney and his skin turning blue, McCoy stepped out of the water and into the cold air. He tried the exit, but it was locked. Chekov’s uncle sighed and left his own shower and knocked three times on the door. </p><p>“Lev?” A muffled voice asked.</p><p>“Da. Ve are ready for zhe blood test.”</p><p>The door unlocked and McCoy faced an Andorian wearing a bio-hazard suit and holding a phaser. “I am Doctor Wals.” she said. “And this is Rhys. He will take your blood. Stand back.”</p><p>Shivering, McCoy complied. He watched as Rhys — also in a suit — took a blood sample from Chekov’s uncle, injected it into a treated test tube, turned it over several times and slipped it into a rack. Then he disposed of the hypo and his gloves and brought out new. Chekov’s uncle took a towel from a shelf, wrapped it around himself and sat down on a bench under the Andorian’s watchful eye.</p><p>“Hold out your arm.” “Rhys said.</p><p>McCoy did as he was asked, very conscious that he was buck naked, dripping wet, freezing cold and still carrying the scent of decontamination fluid on his skin.</p><p>“You can take a towel and have a seat.” Rhys said. </p><p>McCoy was happy to rub the excess water from his hair and wrap the bath sheet around his shoulders like a blanket. He sat down on the bench, leaving room for Chekov to sit by his uncle.</p><p>“That will show definitively whether we’ve been exposed to the virus?” McCoy nodded at the blood samples.</p><p>“You <i>have</i> been exposed.” The Andorian told him. “This will show whether you’ve been infected.”</p><p>“Right.” McCoy thought of the people outside, how horribly transformed they were, hardly people anymore at all. “What happens if we’re infected?”</p><p>The Andorian paused and exchanged a glance with Rhys and Chekov’s uncle. “Immediate quarantine.” She said. “Zed-56-O.S. is virulently contagious.”</p><p>McCoy nodded. With any luck, the hazard suits and helmets had done their job and none of them were infected.</p><p>Chekov and Strong each had their blood taken and joined them on the bench. Then Rhys and the Andorian — Doctor Wals? — locked the door to the showers and left through another door, locking it behind them as well. </p><p>“Zhey have locked us een?” Chekov asked his uncle.</p><p>“Da, Pasha. Eet ees precaution.”</p><p>“Do symptoms manifest this quickly?” McCoy asked, alarmed. “I’m sorry, I’m Doctor McCoy, this is Crewman Strong. You’re Doctor Chekov?”</p><p>“Da, da.” The old man waved away the niceties. “Eet waries, zhe time eet takes for zhe wirus to change you. Zometimes a day, zometimes an hour. Ve haf learned to be wery careful.”</p><p>“Ve vait here for zhe blood test?” Chekov asked. “How long does zhe test take?”</p><p>“Ees fast. Twenty minutes.”</p><p>“Right.” McCoy said. He leaned his head back against the wall and shut his eyes. He was tired. And the floor was leeching what heat was left in his body out though the soles of his feet. Being cold should be the least of his worries, but it was difficult to concentrate on the rest while he was so uncomfortable. He drew his feet up onto the bench and wrapped his towel-clad arms around his knees.</p><p>He wished he could review the data on his tricorder. McCoy had taken readings all over the city and of the infected. He was irritated that his equipment was on the other side of a locked door awaiting decontamination.</p><p>Chekov and his uncle were murmuring together in Russian and McCoy felt a swell of fondness for the kid. They’d become friends over the past several years. He’d resisted initially — what the hell did he have in common with a seventeen-year-old genius? Especially one in the full bloom of his youthful and very distracting beauty. But Chekov had kept turning up at meals and in his office and the rec room and eventually McCoy had gotten over his awkwardness and started to talk to the kid like anyone else.</p><p>They even had things that were only theirs, shared between the two of them — a fondness for five-hundred-year old Texas Swing music, a taste for stupid adventure holos — the stupider the better — and a loathing of Tellarite taffy. When McCoy thought about it, it still seemed strange to have a friend almost twenty years his junior… but he did.</p><p>Hell, the kid was more mature than Jim most of the time.</p><p>God, McCoy hoped Jim was OK. He hated being out of contact like this. Too much could go wrong.</p><p>McCoy sat up — they all did — when they heard the door unlocking. The Andorian had the phaser in her hand. McCoy knew that was bad news. If none of them were infected, he couldn’t think of a reason she’d need the weapon.</p><p>“Lev, you and your nephew can get dressed.” She said. </p><p>The old Russian stood up. “Zhank you, Doctor Valz.” He said. “Come vith me, Pasha.” </p><p>Chekov didn’t move. “I vill vait here for now, Uncle.”</p><p>“Is it both of us?” McCoy asked Wals, exchanging a look with Strong.</p><p>“No.” She said. The Andorian looked like she’d rather rip off her own antennae than have this conversation. “Your blood test is fine, Doctor McCoy. I’m afraid that Crewman Strong is infected with Zed-56-O.S.”</p><p>McCoy looked at Strong. Her face was impassive, but he saw the fear in her eyes. “What happens now?” She asked.</p><p>“You get dressed.” Doctor Wals said. “And then you will go to quarantine.”</p><p>“Is there…” Strong stumbled on a word and stopped, swallowing and dragging her composure back into place. “Is there any chance it’s a false positive?”</p><p>Wals smiled the least amused smile McCoy had ever seen. “There has never been one before.” She said. “Come. There are clothes in here for you… and we shouldn’t waste time.”</p><p>It had been forty minutes at least since they’d come into Galbraith Station. If symptoms could manifest within an hour…</p><p>“Well, I’m cold.” McCoy told Strong, standing up. “Let’s get dressed.” He put himself between Strong and Chekov as they followed the Galbraith scientists into the next room.</p><p>Doctor Chekov took thermal underwear from a shelf, heavy socks from another shelf and a coverall from a third and began to dress himself. The three from the Enterprise followed suit. McCoy had never been so happy for a set of thermal underwear. They conformed to his skin, holding his body heat in so well he immediately began to feel better. The socks were downright orgasmic. His coverall was pine green and it too conformed to his body. He sealed it up the front thinking how useful a utilitarian garment with pockets could be. </p><p>Doctor Chekov handed him a pair of slippers. Thinking of his sturdy Starfleet-issue boots sitting in the red basket, the doctor sighed and stepped into the flimsy slides — which expanded and thickened and cradled his feet like custom running shoes. McCoy sighed happily.</p><p>Wals stepped up to him and slapped a yellow medallion against McCoy’s shoulder. The bio-hazard suit opened, covering his entire body.</p><p>She handed a second medallion to Strong. The security crewman was wearing thermal underwear and socks. She slapped the medallion on her shoulder and the sickly-yellow suit covered her. </p><p>“Quarantine.” Strong said. “I hope you have somewhere secure. I could go through this wall without feeling it.” </p><p>Doctor Walz blinked at the squat, muscular woman. “Follow me.”</p><p>McCoy touched Chekov’s arm. “Stay with your uncle.” He murmured. “Find out what you can.”</p><p>He caught up to Strong and Doctor Wals in the corridor. The Androrian led them to a large room, a laboratory with a small compartment in the center, a room with transparent doors and walls. “In here.” She said, unlocking the transparent door. The walls were a foot thick and from certain angles, McCoy could see the shimmer of the force field built into it.</p><p>The internal room smelled sharply of disinfectant cleanser. Strong exchanged a glance with McCoy — other infected had been held in this room before.</p><p>Doctor Wals opened an insta cot. “I’m afraid I have to strap you down.” She said firmly.</p><p>With a sigh, Strong lay docilely on the cot and submitted to the restraints. After she was securely bound, the Andorian got another set from a cupboard and used those as well, doubling the bindings and adding some to Strong’s torso and thighs.</p><p>“I’ll stay with you.” McCoy said.</p><p>“I’m sorry, Doctor McCoy, but I can’t allow that.”</p><p>McCoy opened his mouth to object, but Strong spoke up. “It’s all right, Doctor. Thank you for offering.” Her voice dropped and McCoy had to lean closer to hear her. “Doctor… <i>Leonard</i>… don’t let me become one of those things.”</p><p>“Ok, Nel.” McCoy said, glad he remembered her name. “If it comes to it, I’ll do it myself.”</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>He touched her hand and tried to smile at her with more reassurance than grimness — and missed Doctor Wals slipping a hypo from a drawer and injecting the security officer. </p><p>“What was that!” He demanded as he watched Strong lose consciousness. </p><p>“A sedative.” She said. </p><p>“You should have asked her. You should have told me.”</p><p>The Andorian simply nodded and McCoy had the distinct impression he was being humored. He followed the doctor out of the transparent lab and watched as she locked the door behind them.</p><p>“You can remove the bio-hazard suit.” She told him.</p><p>McCoy tapped his shoulder, relieved when the yellow retracted. He took a deep breath. He looked at Strong sleeping on the cot, still in her bio-hazard suit. He should have removed it for her.</p><p>“I’m sorry about her.” The Andorian said.</p><p>“She’s going to become like the people outside?” McCoy asked.</p><p>“It takes days to get like that.” Wals cleared her throat and her antennae swiveled gently towards him. “It would be kinder to let her go now, before she loses herself.”</p><p>“Let her go?” McCoy couldn’t imagine putting Nels Strong outside with all those other horrible… unfortunate people. “Oh… you mean euthanize her.”</p><p>“Yes. She did ask you to do it.”</p><p>“<i>If</i> she changes.” McCoy said. “She hasn’t.”</p><p>Wals looked at him sadly. “You haven’t seen it yet.” She muttered. “It’s fast… and they’re just… gone.” She took a breath and turned away from McCoy. “Come.” She led him out of the lab and took him down another corridor into a large open room with both soft furniture and dining tables — clearly both mess hall and rec room. Replicators and recyclers lined the far wall and lean figure worked one. Chekov and his uncle were sitting at a table — it looked like they were playing some sort of a game. The Andorian gestured at the room at large. “Wait here.”</p><p>“What about the rory-rua?” McCoy asked before she could escape. “I spoke with Doctor Flevin…”</p><p>Wals looked momentarily perplexed. Then she nodded. “T’Ull’s research.” She said. “It must be carefully decontaminated before we can bring it any farther into the station. I will do it myself.”</p><p>“Ok.” McCoy nodded. He watched her leave.</p><p>“How are you doing, Doctor?”</p><p>McCoy turned and found the man who’d taken his blood, sans bio-hazard suit. He had lovely, clear green eyes that sparkled, smooth cafe au lait skin, and a full head of blond coils. He was a few years younger than McCoy and his smile was engaging. If he’d met him on shore leave, McCoy would be buying the man a drink and angling to take him back to his hotel.</p><p>“Er… I’ve been better. Rhys, right?”</p><p>“Yep.” Rhys offered him a water pod from the several he carried.</p><p>“Just Rhys?” McCoy asked, taking the water. </p><p>“Oh… Rhys Jones-Ferguson, but everyone just calls me Rhys.” </p><p>‘Course, the man wouldn’t have seen him naked <i>before</i> they got to the hotel. That wasn’t ideal. And he wouldn’t smell of decontamination fluid.</p><p>McCoy cracked the water pod open. “You’re a scientist here too?”</p><p>“Lab tech.” He said. The sparkle in Rhys’ lovely eyes dimmed. “Used to be lots of us. Now it’s just me.”</p><p>“All the rest were…?”</p><p>“Infected. Yeah.”</p><p>“I’m sorry. I spoke with Doctor Flevin…”</p><p>Rhys looked away. “Suicide. Two days ago.”</p><p>“He was infected with the virus.”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Are just the three of you left?”</p><p>Rhys shrugged. “That we know of. There were more but… people left — decided they had to find their family… their kids… or… or get the bloody dog.” He ran a hand through his springy hair. “Or something… and they never come back.” He set his jaw mulishly, not unlike Jim, McCoy noted. “They could be alive out there.”</p><p>“They could.” McCoy agreed. He took a long swallow of the water… then the reminder of Jim hit him like a sack of bricks. “Hey! Uhm. There are more of us down here from the Enterprise — we split up earlier. I need my communicator. I need to warn them!”</p><p>The other man sighed. “You have to wait for your gear to be decontaminated.” He touched McCoy’s arm, trying to calm the doctor’s impatience. “It doesn’t matter — the city’s dark now, the infected are out. They’ll survive or they won’t. There’s nothing you can do.” </p><p>McCoy swore. “You have comms here? At the station?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“I could use it to contact them.”</p><p>“I told you, it’s too late…”</p><p>“We have a man in the shuttle. At least let me warn him.”</p><p>Rhys only paused a second before he agreed, glancing at the water pods in his hands. “Through here—”</p><p> “Tell me where it is. I can find it.” McCoy told Rhys. </p><p>Rhys nodded. “Through that door, down the hall, third door on the left, up the stairs, turn right and it’s the fourth — no, fifth — room on that corridor.”</p><p>“I’ll find it.” McCoy assured him. He looked over at Chekov with his uncle — they had an old-fashioned flat chessboard between them, and they appeared to be playing chess… except it was sped up to an alarming rate. No sooner had one moved a piece than the other was reaching to move another. As he watched, they seemed to move even faster, and then Chekov said ‘check’ and his uncle’s hand froze, poised over the board. After a silent moment — that lasted longer than half a dozen of the moves — Doctor Chekov nodded, and they began resetting the board for the next game.</p><p>McCoy shook his head and headed to the door Rhys had pointed out. </p><p>He found the Station’s comms easily enough and managed to hail Laufferty in the shuttle. He gave the Ensign a quick status update to pass on to the ship, then he asked if he’d heard from the Captain.</p><p>“Aye sir, just over an hour ago. They reached the governmental hall and were attempting to locate Governor Peb.”</p><p>“And nothing since then?”</p><p>“No sir.”</p><p>McCoy swallowed his dread and started on the warning. “Ensign, the pandemic here has infected more of the population than expected — it’s highly contagious, and the effects are profound. Patients with the virus undergo radical bodily changes and seem to become little more than vehicles to continue to spread the contagion. While they appear to be sensitive to light, they are active at night, so under no circumstances do you open the shuttle door. Do you hear me Ensign?!”</p><p>“But Doctor McCoy, what if the Captain comes back?”</p><p>“The Captain isn’t coming back until it’s light out.” McCoy told him forcefully. “And neither are we. You do not open that door.”</p><p>“But—”</p><p>“Ensign, if the Captain contacts you, tell him to hole up somewhere and wait until day light.” </p><p>The Ensign made a frightened noise and McCoy rolled his eyes just about out of his head.</p><p>“Don’t worry, Ensign. It’s very likely that’s exactly what the Captain is doing. He’s gotten out of worse scrapes than this. You sit tight. We’ll see you in the morning.”</p><p>“Yes sir.”</p><p>McCoy ended the call and sat down in the operator’s chair. How had the situation gotten so out of hand?!</p><p>He made his way back down to the mess hall. </p><p>Chekov was waiting for him, his sandy curls both matted and wild after their showers. “Deed you talk to Laufferty, Doktor?”</p><p>“Yeah. Told him not to open the door for hell or high water. Not until it was light out.”</p><p>“Zhe Keptin?”</p><p>McCoy shrugged. “They were fine an hour ago.”</p><p>“So vere ve.” Chekov said with a humorless smile. “An hour ago. Ve must talk vith zhe doktors — Doktor Valz said somezhing about zhe wirus — somezhing you should hear.” </p><p>McCoy frowned. Doctor Wals and Rhys were sitting with Doctor Chekov. With a pointed look at Chekov, McCoy sat down with them. The chess board was shoved aside, half the pieces on their side off the board.</p><p>“Tell me what I should know about Zed-56-O.S.” He said.</p><p>“Stay away from the infected.” Rhys said with a shudder. “At all costs.”</p><p>Doctor Chekov put his hand on Rhys’ arm, quieting the lab tech. “Ve zhink eet may have been engineered.” The old man said. “And set loose here purposefully.”</p><p>McCoy’s eyes widened, the ramifications racing through his brain. “Engineered… I thought it was a zoonotic… the information from Starfleet…”</p><p>“We originally thought it was a zoonotic.” Wals said. “A crossover from one of the indigenous forest mammals… it was puzzling, Omicron has set aside vast forest preserves for the lambkins and woles and all the rest. We don’t eat them. We don’t intrude on their habitat. There should not be crossover diseases.</p><p>“The more we looked at Zed-56-O.S… it’s subtle… whoever made it is good. But it doesn’t act like a natural virus.”</p><p>“Eet doesn’t mutate.” Doctor Chekov said. “Eet ees completely stable… ve have done zhousands and zhousands of genetic tests from samples all over zhe globe, and all are exactly zhe same. And vhat eet does… how contagious eet ees… zhere are almost a billion people on Omicron. Ve barely had reports of a new wirus vhen communities vere going dark. Not two veeks ago, zhe city — zhis city — vas full of life! Zhe Governor initiated a quarantine order, and people complained. And look at us now! Zhe city ees full of ghosts. I don’t vant to zhink zomeone vould do zhis… but I zhink zhey must have.”</p><p>Doctor Wals leaned forward. “If it has been engineered — and I agree with Lev, it must have been — it was made for Humans. My species is immune.” Doctor Wals announced. “Humans and species that can interbreed with Humans — Vulcans, Betazoids, Orions — are susceptible to the virus. Andorians, Tellarites, Benzites, Endosians — we are immune.” She pushed up her sleeve and showed a scabbed over, healing bite on her forearm. “The virus doesn’t know that — they will still attack us. But we won’t turn.”</p><p>“Wow.” McCoy tried to digest the shocking new information. “Can I look at your research? The rory-rua…?”</p><p>“Of course.” Doctor Wals said, standing up to retrieve a PaDD. “From observation, symptoms usually manifest between an hour and two hours after infection — although sometimes it’s up to a day later — including light sensitivity and bleeding from the eyes. It takes days for all the changes — the darkening skin, loss of the nose, tongue, ears, hair, breasts and genitalia, growth of rows of teeth and claws, the changes to the joints — but they can and do pass on infected fluid from the first moment. Though their eyes are sensitive to light, they see extremely well in the dark, and are attracted to movement and noise. We generally try to make as little of both as possible.” She sighed despondently. “I fear your arrival has attracted too much attention to us.”</p><p>“Vhat vill zhey do?” Chekov asked.</p><p>“They’ll try to get in. They are… relentless.”</p><p>McCoy thought about all the buildings with their doors lying in battered pieces and was glad for the number of heavy bars across the door and the bulky furniture stacked against it.</p><p>“The research?” McCoy asked.</p><p>“Here.” She activated the PaDD, opened the research database, and handed it to McCoy. </p><p>“Thanks.” He scrolled through their research making notes and wishing he had his own equipment with him. Chekov sat talking quietly in Russian with his uncle — Lev Chekov was an elderly man with his nephew’s curls. His were silver and his forehead was higher and lined, but some of their movements and expressions were uncannily alike. At least Chekov got to see family — something good tucked into this horror show of a landing party.</p><p>“Doctor McCoy.” Wals interrupted him. “The most humane thing would be to end your crewmate’s misery before it begins.”</p><p>McCoy felt one hundred years old. “She hasn’t shown any symptoms.”</p><p>“She will if we don’t do something first. It would be safer for me to do it.” The Andorian  said</p><p>“I told her that I would.” McCoy said dully. </p><p>Wals opened her mouth to argue but Rhys interrupted. “Let me get the whisky. The sedative won’t wear off for hours yet.”</p><p>McCoy nodded, and Wals subsided unhappily. A shot or four of whisky before he had to kill a woman he knew and respected sounded like a good idea. And the rest of the bottle after.</p><p>Rhys left the room and McCoy returned to the PaDD. He had done his due diligence on rory-rua on the journey to Omicron Settlement and searched for ways it could fit into the research on the virus. Unfortunately, neither Doctor Chekov nor Doctor Wals were among the scientists who had so urgently requested the medicinal plant. The research had not yet been catalogued or tagged, simply dumped on the PaDD in a rough chronological order. It was going to take McCoy all night to skim through the material. Maybe he could set up a keyword search…</p><p>McCoy stifled a yawn. He found his eyes wandering to Chekov and his uncle, still deep in conversation. Would <i>he</i> have that much to say to his own uncles? To any of his relatives? If the awkward silences and repetitive observations about the weather at McCoy holiday gatherings were an indication, no, he did not.</p><p>It brought home once again how little McCoy understood the kid. He liked Chekov, had liked him from day one when the seventeen-year-old genius had saved Jim’s life, saved the Vulcan elders, and then showed how advanced quantum physics combined with a tactical mind could help the Enterprise sneak up on a bunch of crazy Romulans. McCoy had wanted to hug him and tousle his sandy curls. That was a peculiar affection he’d never felt for any other of his colleagues.</p><p>He’d told himself it was fatherly, like the affection he felt for his daughter. </p><p>A loud crash broke McCoy’s reverie, and he stood up, immediately on alert. There was shouting and a shattering, crashing racket and then screaming. McCoy was running towards the source — towards where Strong was locked in the observation lab — Doctor Wals and Lieutenant Chekov on his heels.</p><p>They found chaos — the sedative had not been enough, Strong was awake and had succumbed to the virus. She had freed an arm from the restraints and half-freed a leg and dragged the insta cot across the observation lab.</p><p>When Rhys had walked through the outer lab with the whiskey —the bottle was smashed on the floor — Strong had crashed through the transparent door of the lab, shattering it — something McCoy thought was supposed to be impossible, and, still dragging her cot had gotten hold of Rhys.</p><p>Rhys was screaming. The blood streaming from Nels Strong’s eyes mingled with the blood flowing from his shoulder where her teeth were buried.</p><p>Chekov gasped something in Russian and Strong looked up, her dead black eyes fixing on the Lieutenant. She dropped Rhys and he recoiled, scooting backwards across the floor, still choking out broken cries. Strong ignored him, she was intent on getting to Chekov now. McCoy shoved him out of the way, into his retreating uncle’s hands.</p><p>Strong was fast. If she hadn’t been crawling and still half-strapped to the cot, she would have reached McCoy before he could react. As it was, he found himself scuttling back in terror — she was monstrous, looking so familiar, yet so transformed. She clacked her teeth together, Rhys’s blood covering her chin and soaking the front of her hazard suit below where she’d bitten through it. But the worst part was her eyes, turned entirely black — the whites, the pupil, iris — black and blank and bloody. Twin trails of red striped her face from the corner of her deep black eyes down to the gore on her chin, like a hellish kabuki mask.</p><p>Reflexively, McCoy grabbed a rack of recyclable lab vessels and yanked it down in front of him. Strong crawled over it, cutting her hand and knee deeply on the glass-like shards, but didn’t even pause. She was a single-minded juggernaut, relentless in her pursuit. McCoy wanted a door between them as fast as possible, but he knew in his bones there was no door she couldn’t break through.</p><p>An explosion shocked him and Strong was blown sideways. </p><p>“Move!” Doctor Wals screamed. “Behind me!”</p><p>She had a projectile weapon in her hands, what they called a long gun in Georgia. Chekov and his uncle were already on her side of the room and McCoy hurried to join them. He wasn’t halfway before the Andorian shot again. McCoy looked back and saw that Strong, despite the first projectile penetrating her chest, had been right behind him. The second projectile had hit her in the forehead and taken her brain out the back of her skull. Strong lay slumped dangling from the cot.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey everyone (all nine of you!) thanks for reading! I had fun writing this one. Let me know your thoughts in the comments — they are like little gifts I get in my email.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Emergency Preparations</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>DAY ONE: after dark</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Get your clothes off!” Wals shouted at McCoy.</p><p>“What?” He felt stupid — he must be in shock. Knowing didn’t lessen the effects at all. There was a shrill keening that he couldn’t identify.</p><p>“Get your clothes off.” Doctor Wals repeated. “They’re contaminated!”</p><p>That penetrated McCoy’s fog. Chekov was already unsealing his coverall and McCoy slapped his hands away. “Gloves, Lieutenant.” He ordered and proceeded to strip the garment off himself.</p><p>Once the outer layer was off, Chekov’s uncle — wearing a yellow bio hazard suit — ushered him into the next room and immediately sprayed his face with a saline solution. McCoy windmilled, knocked off balance, but understood the older doctor wanted to wash contaminants off his face and tried to stand still.</p><p>When he’d finished with McCoy’s face, Doctor Chekov stood him near a utility drain in the floor. He had a plastic bag for McCoy’s shoes and thermal underwear. Naked for the second time in an hour he was subjected to an icy cold emergency decontamination shower — meant for acid spills and the like. Once again, he was doused in the smelly, slimy liquid, but he made certain to get it all through his hair, on his face and neck and hands especially. He even rinsed his eyes and mouth with the vile, stinging solution, terror of infection overcoming his disgust.</p><p>Chekov — Lieutenant Chekov — stood at the far side of the room, staring at McCoy with huge eyes. He was wringing his hands... he had gloves on now, McCoy noted. He hadn’t expected to show the kid his cock once today, let alone twice. That struck him as funny. He had to bite back a hysterical giggle.</p><p>It’s the shock he reminded himself.</p><p>McCoy pulled the cord for the water to rinse off the decontaminating solution. Though it felt soothing in his eyes, it too was frigid, and he shivered through the process of rinsing the oily residue from his hair. </p><p>There was another explosion — another shot — from the lab, and all three of them jumped. “Rhys.” Doctor Chekov said.</p><p>The keening had stopped.</p><p>McCoy nodded. He felt nauseated. Wals had tried to tell him, but he’d been too pigheaded to understand. And now a sweet, young man was dead. It was his fault. He bent over and vomited into the drain, his stomach cramping. </p><p> “You need anozer blood test.” Doctor Chekov told McCoy, handing him a towel and a bottle of water.</p><p>“Of course.” McCoy said blankly, extending his arm. The old doctor took the sample quickly and injected it into a treated test tube that he sealed and shook several times. He set it in a rack. </p><p>“Twenty minutes, ve vill know.” </p><p>“Ok.” McCoy said, rinsing his mouth. He toweled off his chest and shoulders. “Do you need to isolate me?”</p><p>“Ve vill know before you turn.”</p><p>“Right.” McCoy rubbed his face tiredly — it was still unpleasantly oily. “Then you can shoot me.”</p><p>“Doktor! Zhey vill not shoot you!” Chekov stuttered.</p><p>“They will, Lieutenant. I’m not letting <i>that</i> happen again.” He said. Forcefully. “Til then,” he shivered. “There, uh, any more clothes I could have? It's damn cold on this planet.”</p><p>“Da. Zhis vay.” Doctor Chekov carefully picked up the rack containing McCoy’s blood test and opened a door onto a corridor.</p><p>McCoy wrapped the towel around his waist and padded after the doctor, making certain Lieutenant Chekov was with them. They were taken back through the big mess hall to another area of the station containing barracks, several of which appeared to be in use. </p><p>“Zhe clothes een zhis room should fit you.” Doctor Chekov said. He hesitated. “Ve haf to leave here. Zhe noise of zhe gun, eet ees too much. Nothing vill stop zhem now.” He took a rucksack from a hook and handed it to McCoy. “Pack surwiwal supplies.”</p><p>“Leave?” Chekov exclaimed from the doorway. “How can ve leave? Zhey are out zhere!”</p><p>“And soon zhey vill be een here. Ve vill drive.” The old doctor said. “To zhe shuttle.”</p><p>“There are plenty of supplies in the shuttle.” McCoy said, opening a drawer and uttering a silent prayer of thanks at the thick socks therein. </p><p>“Ve pack een case ve don’t get to zhe shuttle tonight.”</p><p>McCoy froze momentarily... then continued pulling on thermal underwear. “Good point. You gotta med kit around here?”</p><p>“I zee vhat I can find.”</p><p>Chekov stayed in the doorway. “Lieutenant?” McCoy asked. The kid started and blushed up to his hairline, realizing he’d been staring openly at the doctor as he dressed. “Go with him, see what kind of mask or face shields they have. We need something more durable than the bio-hazard suit your uncle was wearing.”</p><p>“Yes, Doktor.” Chekov said his eyes glued to his shoes, then scuttled off.</p><p>McCoy pulled on a second set of thermal underwear, feeling decadent, then a coverall — this one the same deep violet as many of the trees. He found a pair of thick-soled, self-fitting boots that he could wear wading and emerge with perfectly dry and warm feet. If he made it off this cursed rock alive, maybe he’d keep them.</p><p>McCoy picked up a light hooded jacket with a zip and a heavier coat to wear overtop. He found gloves and a thick knit hat that he pulled on over his damp hair, covering his ears. He would be warm on this godforsaken planet if it was the last thing he did.</p><p>McCoy laughed, a little hysterically. Depending on the outcome of his blood test, it might be.</p><p>There were a few meal replacement bars in one of the drawers. McCoy threw them in the rucksack. After what happened with Strong, he couldn’t eat, but Chekov needed to keep his strength up. </p><p>He paused before closing the drawer. In with the bars was a little holo of a man with a small girl in his arms. The girl was laughing, her arms thrown around the man’s neck, and he looked at her happily… proudly… they reminded McCoy of himself with his own daughter, Jo. Not that he got to be with her much since the divorce. </p><p>Was he wearing this man’s clothes? Was his daughter somewhere wondering what had happened to him? Would Jo wonder when Starfleet told her Daddy had died somewhere called Omicron?</p><p>Carefully, McCoy tucked the holo under the neatly folded shirts and closed the drawer. </p><p>He found uncle and nephew a few doors down the corridor putting together a haphazard med kit, including bandages, wound care, and a portable tissue regenerator. </p><p>“For Valz.” Doctor Chekov said. “Zhe Andorians are immune to zhe epidemic, but zhey are wery susceptible to bacterial infection. Really quite fragile — don’t tell Valz I zaid zo.” </p><p>“Right.” McCoy said, shoveling it all into the rucksack. He wanted his medical tricorder with its top end scanner and cache of medicines, but had no idea what had happened to it, let alone if it was still considered contaminated. He found a less sensitive diagnostic scanner than his Starfleet issue and tucked it in a pocket of the coat.</p><p>Doctor Wals strode in wearing a coat identical to the one McCoy had found, carrying a box of equipment. “Good, you’re packing.” She said brusquely, the look on her face telling McCoy not to ask if she was ok. Or to mention Rhys. Wals tossed a coat at Chekov. “Did you do the blood test?”</p><p>“Right zhere.” Doctor Chekov said, gesturing at the rack with the test tube. It was sitting on a shelf with boxes of protein bars. He began sorting through the equipment in the box, handing his nephew a rucksack.</p><p>“How long has it been?”</p><p>“Fifteen minutes.”</p><p>The Andorian nodded. “How will we know?” McCoy asked. “If it’s positive or not?”</p><p>“Eef eet’s positive for zhe wirus, eet vill turn black.” Doctor Chekov told him, handing McCoy a small silver square that he recognized as a warming blanket. He stuffed it in his bag.</p><p>Wals handed McCoy a sleek gray communicator. “Can you contact your shuttle on that? Let them know we’re coming?”</p><p><i>If I am coming.</i> McCoy thought. But he said, “I can try.” Regardless what happened to him, he wanted Chekov and his uncle and this dour Andorian to get safely to the Enterprise.</p><p>He keyed in the shuttle’s frequency and hailed Laufferty. McCoy saw Chekov’s jaw clench as he hailed a second time. And a third. He checked the frequency and tried again. “McCoy to Galileo, come in, Galileo.” </p><p>McCoy met the Andorian’s flinty eyes and shrugged. “I don’t know if it’s the communicator or if something’s happened to Laufferty.”</p><p>Doctor Wals sighed and for a millisecond, McCoy saw her fear. Then it disappeared behind the doctor’s hard mask leaving McCoy to wonder if he’d been projecting.</p><p>She stared at him for a long moment and McCoy saw his death in her eyes — then he was the one who couldn’t hide his fear. Wals turned away to grab a box of the protein bars showing him the long gun on her back with its hefty magazine of projectiles. He took a deep breath, trying to make his peace. He hoped Chekov wouldn’t insist on a sentimental goodbye, McCoy couldn’t think of anything that would make it worse. If he had that virus in his veins, he’d tell the kid it had been an honor to serve with him and to tell Jim he was an idiot, but this wasn’t his fault. Then the Andorian should just take him behind the barn and shoot him like a rabid dog, quick and painless.</p><p>Wals keyed open a cabinet revealing a rack of hand phasers. Doctor Chekov took one and with a glance at McCoy, Lieutenant Chekov took two, tucking one into a pocket of the coat and the other in his coverall. Wals handed one to Doctor McCoy with a pointed look. He took it, surprised she trusted him with it before knowing for certain he wasn’t infected. </p><p>He hefted it. It felt strange in his hand — he was rated on the weapon, all Starfleet officers were, but as a doctor, he’d always thought shooting people was against his own interests. Tonight was definitely an exception. </p><p>Wals passed out water bottles that fit cleverly inside a pocket in the rucksacks, and half-sized travel PaDDs. Wals had a map of the city on hers with a course plotted from Galbraith Station to the shuttle landing pad. “Maps are on all the PaDDs.” She said.</p><p>Chekov took a wedge tool and a knife. He caught McCoy’s raised eyebrows and shrugged. “Better to be owerprepared.” He tossed a camp light at McCoy.</p><p>“That’s right.” Doctor Wals agreed, handing out protein bars. “But these will be your most valuable piece of equipment.” She pulled small blue pods from the box and handed them out. She tapped one on the edge of the table and clapped it flat against her chest. It grew, covering her with a thick, flexible, blue-tinted, material with gloves and a hood. The gloves hung from her wrists, ready to be pulled on and sealed. </p><p>There was a distant thump and Doctor Wals and Doctor Chekov exchanged an alarmed look.</p><p>“Ve must go <i>now</i>.” Doctor Chekov insisted, tapping his blue pod on the table and clutching it to his chest.</p><p>“My blood test...?” McCoy asked, finding it impossible to lift his eyes to the test tube.</p><p>“You’re fine.” Wals said brusquely. “Put it on.” She shoved a pod at McCoy. “Quickly.”</p><p>The blood in the test tube was still red! McCoy felt weak with relief, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. He fought it, gripping the edge of the table, trying to catch his breath. A crash sounded — closer than before — and a wave of adrenaline surged through him. <i>He would survive</i>! McCoy tapped his pod on the table and pressed it to his chest. The protective suit vibrated oddly.</p><p>Chekov had his on as well and at his uncle’s urging, he followed Doctor Wals. McCoy paused only long enough to scoop the rest of the blue pods into his rucksack, then followed the Andorian, sealing the bag as he ran.</p><p>She took them down a steep flight of stairs into a storage room. There she dug in a chest and tossed out a cricket bat and two of the heavy jildur bats — McCoy didn’t question why, just took them from her — then opened a cabinet and rummaged until she emerged with a fire axe.</p><p>The noise behind them was growing louder, closer. McCoy felt a clammy sweat under his thermals at the thought of the jerky movements of the black and bloody figures coming for them...</p><p>Doctor Wals hurried them through another door into a garage. “Block it, Lev” she said, bundling the bats, tools and long gun into an industrial hover car. Doctor Chekov ran to a truck and started it, its engine humming softly. He waved his nephew out of the way and drove the truck in front of the door, effectively making it impossible for anyone to follow them. </p><p>Or at least, McCoy thought, remembering the barricade at the front door of the station, making it difficult.</p><p>“Hurry.” Doctor Wals hissed at McCoy and Chekov. “Seal your suits.” She pulled a tab on her hood and a transparent shield extended over her face. She pressed the ends to her neck and a seam joined them then disappeared, making the suit one smooth expanse. She donned the gloves and sealed them at the forearm, and they conformed perfectly to her large hands. Chekov and McCoy did the same, somewhat less efficiently — McCoy put the gloves he’d found with the hat and coat on first. If he was gonna die tonight, it wouldn’t be with cold hands.</p><p>“Get in.” Wals ordered, swinging onto the pilot’s bench. “Lieutenant — in the back with Lev. Doctor McCoy, up front with me.” They obeyed, McCoy taking out his PaDD and pulling up the map. Doctor Chekov climbed in and Wals locked the doors and started the engine. </p><p>McCoy checked his phaser and strapped in. The garage door whooshed open soundlessly and Doctor Wals piloted the hovercar out onto the dark street. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading! Say hello — so I know I'm not just tossing this into the void. Not that that would stop me.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Swarmed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>DAY ONE: after dark</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>At first their progress was swift. The dark streets were empty, illuminated by the soft lavender light of four of Omicron’s moons, as they floated silently towards the shuttle.</p><p>McCoy kept his eyes on the map, following their progress. They’d gone three blocks before he noticed how badly his hands were shaking. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself.</p><p>Doctor Chekov handed him one of the jildur bats over the seat. “What is this for?” McCoy whispered.</p><p>“Eef zhey get close and you cannot shoot zhem.” The old man whispered back. “Aim for zhe head.”</p><p>McCoy stared at the man. <i>The hell I will</i>! He thought. But the old Russian was serious. Of course, he was — McCoy had used the container of rory-rua to repel the infected. He felt sick.</p><p>And he felt an odd, distant bitterness about the rory-rua. The precious medicinal plant had been so <i>urgently</i> requested, Starfleet had turned itself inside out obtaining it and rushing it to Omicron — to the detriment of fifty other worlds that needed a portion of the treasure trove McCoy had schlepped from the shuttle. Only for it to be abandoned to “decontamination” and all but forgotten. </p><p>It was lost now. People on other planets would die because the Federation had rerouted the supply here in a desperate attempt to stop a raging pandemic. </p><p>And that made McCoy <i>furious</i>. He’d read everything the Federation had on the pandemic and nothing had come close to what they’d found here! He’d read the reports of an infection resembling ebola and marburg, where the victim bled internally and externally... he’d studied the genome of the virus... or of <i>a</i> virus...</p><p>Had it mutated, despite the doctors' claims? Had the scientists misunderstood the virus? Had they outright lied about it, guarding their research out of professional jealousy — or as a way to hide that it had been manufactured in a lab!</p><p>How had the reports been so wrong? </p><p>Were he a betting man, McCoy would put money on the planetary politicians falsifying the scientists’ reports out of fear the Settlement would be put under a planetary quarantine. So instead of help evacuating survivors — a week ago or two weeks ago when large swathes of the population could have been saved — they’d begged for a “miracle cure.” And now it looked like the entire capital city had succumbed. McCoy wouldn’t be surprised if the entire Settlement was beyond help.</p><p>What McCoy wouldn’t give to talk to Mister Scott right now and have him beam them all up to the safety of the Enterprise! How was that for irony — he would feel safer in a tin can in space, safer scattering his atoms across the galaxy, than keeping his boots planted on solid ground!</p><p>“Try the shuttle again.” Doctor Wals urged, her voice a whisper. </p><p>McCoy picked up the sleek communicator from the dashboard and opened it, wincing at how loud the chirp sounded in the silent cab. He made certain he had the frequency dialed in and hailed the shuttle. <i>Goddammit, if Laufferty had opened the door he would have that useless fancy boy’s hide...</i></p><p>If Laufferty had opened the door — or if the infected had somehow gotten into the shuttle — Laufferty wasn’t Laufferty anymore. <i>Goddammit</i>!</p><p>“Laufferty...”</p><p>“Laufferty! Thank god! McCoy here!”</p><p>“...Coy... ok?... hello?” There was more static than Laufferty on the line.</p><p>“Laufferty? Can you hear me?”</p><p>“...reaking up, Doctor McCoy...”</p><p>“We’re coming your way! Laufferty! We’re coming to the shuttle! Don’t open the door until we get there! Laufferty!?”</p><p>“...coming here?... Captain... help...”</p><p>“Captain? What about the Captain, Laufferty?! Hello?” McCoy listened to static. “Hello!?...I lost him.”</p><p>“At least ve know he ees zafe.” Chekov said.</p><p>“And he knows we’re coming. I hope.” McCoy said, exchanging a glance with Chekov.</p><p>“Eef zhe shuttle pad ees owerrun, vhat do ve do?” Chekov asked.</p><p>“We’ll shoot them.” Doctor Wals said.</p><p>Having recently been in a shootout with a crowd of infected, McCoy saw a few holes in that strategy. But before he could say anything, they hit a large bump that jolted the car violently — if McCoy hadn’t been strapped in, he would have cracked his head on the window. “What was that!?”</p><p>“They’ve found us.” Doctor Wals said tensely, swerving. Russian curses sounded from the back seat. McCoy looked for where they were, but Wals took a hard, right turn without braking and all he saw were buildings kaleidoscoping by. </p><p>“Ze shuttle ees ze other vay.” Chekov said.</p><p>“That way is blocked.” Doctor Wals gritted, swerving again. “We have to find another route.”</p><p>“Eef you can turn left in eight hundred meters, ve can double back along zhe riwer.”</p><p>“Navigator.” McCoy mumbled. “One of the best.”</p><p>“Zhank you, Doktor.”</p><p>“I don’t know if the way will be clear.” Wals snapped.</p><p>“Eef eet ees blocked, ve vill find another vay.” Chekov assured them. “Zhere ees alvays another vay.”</p><p>McCoy found Chekov’s assurance calming — until Wals shouted, “This one? This left?” </p><p>“Da! Yes!”</p><p>McCoy braced against the dashboard as the car careened around the corner. His PaDD fell off the seat and landed somewhere in the footwell. Wals immediately began swearing in Andorian and swerving. The car hit something — someone — and jolted over it painfully. McCoy had always thought hovercars should be able to drive over bumps without feeling it, but — it had been explained to him — the “intakes” were sensitive to certain obstacles, especially “loose” obstacles and could become clogged. It boiled down to: don’t run over people, it breaks the car.</p><p>Wals was doing her damnedest to avoid it. Infected were trickling onto the street, but it was not crowded, not yet. She found ways through.</p><p>“How far to the river?” She demanded. </p><p>“Feefteen hundred and zhirty-six meters. Approximately.” Chekov told her and McCoy <i>loved</i> him in that moment. And then felt a sharp stab of homesickness for the Enterprise. The kid should be on the bridge right now.</p><p>They hit another infected, the car jolting so badly McCoy hit his head on the ceiling. It hurt and he felt dizzy. The next swerve had him reeling, his stomach rebelling. He tried desperately not to retch inside the sealed protective suit…</p><p>Chekov was counting down the meters. “One zouzand... nine-feeftee... nine hundred...” McCoy focused on the Lieutenant’s voice, letting it anchor him...</p><p>It was wrong for him to feel grateful that the kid was here with him. McCoy <i>hated</i> that Chekov was going to die tonight — or worse, become one of those things. It wasn’t right. If any of them survived it should be Chekov. Even with what little he knew about Doctor Wals and Doctor Chekov, the kid was the best of them — the youngest, the smartest, the one with the most potential...</p><p>The swerving was becoming more erratic, the hovercar decelerating. Chekov’s countdown slowed along with it. “Seex hundred... five hundred and feeftee... five hundred...”</p><p>Wals ran down another infected and the jarring bumps were worse, the hovercar choking and almost stalling. McCoy held his breath until the engine hummed to life again. The Andorian swore and the car skittered sideways across the road, slamming a number of infected to the ground, before juddering forwards.</p><p>“...four hundred... three hundred and feeftee...”</p><p><i>Let us get to the river</i>. McCoy prayed. <i>And let the virus hate water</i>.</p><p>They were going very slowly now, Wals, easing around the growing groups of herky-jerky infected. They clawed at the car, clacking their teeth, leaving alarming scratches and smears of gore. The glass of the window next to his head cracked. McCoy found himself edging closer to Wals.</p><p>“...three hundred...”</p><p>With a series of bone-jarring jolts they broke through into a miraculously empty pocket and Wals floored the accelerator. </p><p>“...two hundred and feeftee... two hundred... one hundred and feeftee...”</p><p>Just when McCoy thought they might make it, they careened full speed into a clot of infected, mowing them down... the hovercar tipped and veered, the intakes choking. The noise was deafening, a squealing, shrieking, shouting — that last bit might have been him — punctuated by the clacking of rows and rows of teeth. </p><p>The engine caught again, and the car wheeled around in a circle, snagged on something. More infected reached them, walking directly in front of the car and getting sucked under. The car stalled out entirely and crashed onto its side, jerking McCoy hard against the straps. That would bruise…</p><p>He hit the release and fell against the cracked window — ending up face-to-face with an infected person missing most of the skin from a head that was so flattened McCoy couldn’t believe its mouth was still moving. He squirmed around, putting his feet on its face and standing up. He leaned over the seat to make certain that Chekov was ok. The Lieutenant was helping his uncle and craning his neck to see into the front. </p><p>“Doktor, are you hurt?”</p><p>“I’m fine, kid.” McCoy assured him — Chekov didn’t need to be worrying about him.</p><p>“Packs on.” Wals ordered. “Phasers and weapons ready — give me the axe, Lieutenant. McCoy, take the bat.” She took a deep breath and blew it out, steeling herself. “I’ll go first and clear a path. Chekov, Lev you’re next, McCoy, make sure they get out ok. We’ll run for the river.”</p><p>McCoy wanted to ask what would happen when they got there — but he kept his mouth shut. If they made it to the river, he’d worry about that. Right now, Infected were swarming around the car, pressing and pawing against the windshield inches from McCoy. Looking away he began gathering his things. The bat was in the footwell and the phaser was on his belt. He checked the phaser’s charge and made sure it was set on stun. He felt for the PaDD and found it with the screen cracked. He dropped it and grabbed the sleek communicator instead, sticking it in the rucksack. McCoy secured it to his back and awkwardly shoved the bat under his belt. One end poked into his gut and the other caught on the seat back.</p><p>Chekov handed him the long gun. “Ve vill make eet.” He said, his gloved hand touching McCoy’s.</p><p>“Of course we will.” McCoy told him, passing the projectile weapon’s strap over his head. He grasped Chekov’s shoulder firmly. “Are you ready to do this?”</p><p>“Da.”</p><p>“Doctor Chekov?”</p><p>“As ready as I vill ewer be.” The old Russian said. </p><p>Doctor Wals gripped the axe. “Stay here until I tell you to come out.” The Andorian didn’t wait for an answer, she popped the door and vaulted up and out of the cab, only stumbling a little as she balanced on the side of the vehicle. Immediately McCoy heard the sound of phaser fire and some of the infected pressing on the windshield fell back. Claws reached for Doctor Wals ankles but dropped away under her sustained assault.</p><p>“Now!” She shouted. “Chekov!”</p><p>Lieutenant Chekov used the seatback to clamber out of the car. McCoy watched him pause and look around, then presumably seeing it was safe, reached down for his uncle. McCoy wove his hands together and gave Doctor Chekov something to step up onto as his nephew hauled him out of the car. Gritting his teeth, McCoy followed him up.</p><p>It was so cold! The wind whipping down the street grabbed at his clothing and almost pushed him off the side of the hover car! Bracing himself, McCoy fired his phaser at the infected coming around the car. </p><p>Wals was on the ground surrounded by stunned infected. There was no path but over their bodies and her boots squelched messily. More infected marched jerkily towards them and she continued to shoot looking for all the world like a heroic character in a Eugenics War holo.</p><p>Chekov slid off the hovercar, his boots smacking on the ground. He looked up in time to shoot a blackened figure coming around the car, then reached up to help his uncle down — his head constantly rotating on the lookout for more. McCoy laid down a heavy stun on everything that moved towards them.</p><p>“Doktor! Come on!” Chekov shouted, looking up at him anxiously. McCoy jumped off the car and began running, catching up with the Chekovs in a few steps and helping the Lieutenant lift his uncle over stunned bodies. </p><p>Black, heky-jerky figures were coming at them from all sides now. Wals was doing her best, clearing a path, it was up to McCoy and Chekov to keep any from catching up. But they were inexorable! When one went down, three tromped over it to get to them.</p><p>With a strangled cry, Uncle Lev fell, twisting his ankle on the shifting pile of bodies. He threw his hands out to catch himself and put an arm through a black chest with a horrible squelch. Chekov swore and shot behind them.</p><p>McCoy reached to help the old man, but the Lieutenant cried out, “Doktor! Behind you!” </p><p>He swung around, feeling claws rake the phaser out of his hand. McCoy jerked his hand back with a shudder, pulling the bat from his belt with the other. It was a near thing, if the woman — she had been a woman, McCoy could tell from the shapes of her shoulders and hips — if she hadn’t lost her footing on the bodies of her fellows, she would have been on him. But McCoy managed to yank the bat free and use the blunt end to push her backwards, whereupon Chekov shot her, and the ones behind her.</p><p>Instead of going for the phaser, McCoy turned back to Doctor Chekov. The old Russian was floundering, and McCoy grabbed him under the arm and hauled him upright. He pulled the clean arm over his shoulders and wrapped his hand around the old man’s waist and half-carried him over the largest part of the pile.</p><p>Chekov dropped behind them, his back to McCoy’s, firing and firing. Wals was ahead her phaser singing loudly over the sound of his own breathing in his ears.</p><p>Doctor Wals shouted something, her antennae swiveling towards them. McCoy let go of Doctor Chekov and wielding his bat, swung around, catching one of the creatures on the arm. It hardly paused and, remembering the instructions, McCoy swallowed hard and aimed the bat at its head.</p><p>The sound was repulsive — an overripe watermelon hitting a hot sidewalk — and McCoy felt his gorge rise. But the body dropped! Taking a step backwards, McCoy took aim at the next unfortunate and swung.</p><p>He’d played baseball in high school and college — first base and he was good enough at hitting for an athletic scholarship. McCoy felt his body falling into the familiar posture as he pulled the bat back over his shoulder and swung. Hitting a body felt nothing like hitting a ball. Hitting a body made him want to scream and puke and cry and…</p><p>The black-eyed person coming at him had been infected so recently his skin had not begun to darken. He was Vulcan, or had been, the blood flowing down his face a bright green. The bites on his shoulder and arm were fresh, and he still had his nose and his pointed ears. He had hair and it was cut very much like Spock’s — and the remnants of the robes he wore looked like something McCoy had seen that stoic bastard wear. </p><p>For what felt like <i>ages</i>, McCoy thought it <i>was</i> Spock and the grief was unbearable. He staggered back a step, rejecting the idea. And even as he saw this man was stockier, his face broader than Spock’s, McCoy’s heart beat double time, choking him with bitter sentiment.</p><p>And oh God! <i>That was a child!</i> A child the same size as his Jo! </p><p>How many of these people were infected simply because they didn’t have it in them to take a bat to the head of their neighbors or their friends? Their loved ones. Their children...</p><p>“Doktor!”</p><p>Chekov shoved him aside, and claws meant for McCoy sliced long lines through Chekov’s bio-hazard suit and the coat underneath. The young Russian swung his cricket bat wildly and blood and brains exploded into the air like macabre fireworks. That was when McCoy realized that he’d stopped swinging. If it were only him, he could do that, he could give up. Give in. But he wasn’t going to allow Chekov to die!</p><p>McCoy picked up his bat and side-by-side, he and Chekov fought their way to the water’s edge.</p><p>
  <i>They made it.</i>
</p><p>“A boat!” Chekov exclaimed. Wals was standing on a cement lip overlooking a wide, green river next to where a boat was tied to a metallic knob. It wasn’t much, a recyclable pod boat with a flat bottom and curved hull, but there was enough room for four and the river was broad and swift enough that the infected shouldn’t be able to get to them. For the first time since the hovercar crashed, McCoy thought they might survive the night.</p><p>With the water at their back, Wals and Chekov were able to keep the swarming infected at bay with their phasers. McCoy knelt to untie the boat. “Get in!” He shouted at Doctor Chekov.</p><p>“I am sorry, Doktor McCoy, but I cannot.”</p><p>“Don’t worry, I get seasick too.” McCoy told him. “I hate boats.”</p><p>“No, zhat ees not eet.” Doctor Chekov held up his arm, showing McCoy. It was still bloody from where he’d fallen into the infected body — but now McCoy could see the rip in the blue tinted protective suit and the blood underneath it, soaking the sleeve of the old man’s coat. Something had pierced all the way through to his flesh. A rib, McCoy thought, seeing in his mind’s eye, exactly how the old man’s arm had penetrated the blackened torso. Probably a rib. McCoy swore.</p><p>“You vill take care of him, da?” Doctor Chekov demanded, gripping McCoy’s bicep. Promize, you vill not let Pasha die like zhis.”</p><p>“If it’s the last thing I do.” McCoy said, taking hold of the old man’s shoulder and squeezing it. “I promise.”</p><p>“Get him een zhe boat, da? I fear he vill not let me go…”</p><p>McCoy set his mouth grimly and nodded. “Get the axe from Wals.” He said. “I’ll take care of Chekov.” He watched as the old man spoke to the Andorian — he showed her the injury and McCoy saw the anguish on her face, but she nodded, glanced at Lieutenant Chekov, and handed over the axe.</p><p>McCoy took the axe from him and took a deep breath. “Chekov!” He spoke with authority. “Get in the boat. I’m going to hand you the long gun.”</p><p>With a controlled sweep of his arm, Chekov shot three of the infected creatures, then turned and jumped lightly into the pod boat. His Uncle took his place, unsheathing his phaser and shooting into the crowd of bloody bodies. </p><p>McCoy handed the long gun to Chekov, then he lifted the axe and chopped through the rope tying it to the shore. He held the rope, keeping the boat from floating away. He could feel the tug of the current. He handed the axe to Chekov and when the small boat rocked back and forth, gestured for him to sit down. With a slight eye roll, the Lieutenant complied.</p><p>“Wals!” McCoy yelled, turning around. “Time —”</p><p>He’d meant to say ‘to go.” “Time to go.” But there were black bodies between them, blood flowing from their dead, black eyes, teeth clacking. McCoy shouted in surprise and almost dropped the rope as he stumbled backwards. </p><p>Doctor Chekov turned and shot two of them — but that allowed the infected on his flank to close in. </p><p>“Uncle...!” Chekov screamed from the boat as they grabbed his uncle. McCoy felt him rocking the boat violently, clambering towards the cement lip, back towards the infected to try to help his uncle. </p><p>But Doctor Chekov put the phaser to his head and pulled the trigger. He’d taken it off stun and it disintegrated not just him but the clot of creatures that had taken hold of him. </p><p>McCoy jumped into the boat, eluding the claws and clacking teeth of more of the horde. “Wals!” He screamed. “Wals!” </p><p>But the Andorian was separated by a swarm of tortured black bodies and the boat was in the current already. </p><p>“Wals!” McCoy screamed again. “Get to the shuttle!” He hoped she heard him. He hoped she could get there in one piece.</p><p>Abruptly, McCoy realized he was standing up in a tiny boat in the middle of a racing river. He froze and slowly lowered his hands and gripped the edges of the boat. Slowly and carefully he sat on the bench and turned himself around.</p><p>Chekov knelt in the bottom of the boat still staring at shore. “Lieutenant.” McCoy said.</p><p>The boat rocked violently as Chekov shifted and sat down, dropping his head between his knees. McCoy grabbed at the sides certain they would capsize. Chekov abruptly clawed open his face shield — and McCoy saw blood on his gloves.</p><p>“Don’t move, Lieutenant!” McCoy commanded.</p><p>The urgency and command in McCoy’s voice penetrated Chekov’s fog and he obeyed. McCoy reached out and tapped his shoulder, causing Chekov’s bio-hazard suit to retract outside-in, into a fist-sized ball. McCoy almost tossed it in the river — there was no way it wasn’t contaminated by the virus already — but the planet’s dedication to recycling had been pounded into the away team relentlessly. McCoy felt around the edge of the pod boat until his fingers found a snag. He pulled and, sure enough, there was a pouch. McCoy tossed the used hazard suit into the pouch.</p><p>Returning his attention to Chekov, he was horrified to see there was more blood and gore on his coat — which had also been sliced! Had he been infected just like his uncle!?</p><p><i>Oh please God, no</i>!</p><p>Kneeling in front of Chekov, and very glad for his own hazard suit, McCoy yanked at the seal on the torn coat, opening it and pulling it from the younger man’s body. He rolled it inside out and shoved it into the pouch which compacted it with alarming speed. McCoy was relieved to see the garment below untouched by claws. But there was blood on fabric, below the coverage of the coat, and McCoy began unsealing that too.</p><p>“Vhat... vhat are you doing?” Chekov attempted to bat his hands away.</p><p>“Stop!” McCoy ordered, and was relieved when Chekov obeyed. “It’s contaminated. We have to get rid of it.”</p><p>Chekov looked down at his coverall dumbly but didn’t resist as McCoy took it off him.</p><p>“Where’s your pack, Lieutenant?” McCoy asked.</p><p>It was a moment before the younger man seemed to register the question. “I lost eet.” He said staring at his lap. </p><p>McCoy pushed the contaminated coverall into the pouch and disengaged his own bio-hazard suit. He unslung his own rucksack and rummaged in it for the package of decontamination wipes. He yanked off his gloves and stored them carefully in his coat pocket then popped the container, wrinkling his nose at the stink. He wiped his hands thoroughly with one then held the container out to Chekov. “Clean your hands, Lieutenant.” He said. “Inspection in five minutes.”</p><p>The idea of inspection seemed to help. Chekov sat up straighter and used the oily wipe to sanitize his hands exactly as shown in the Starfleet instruction holo — McCoy should know, he’d seen the damned thing enough times. Every cadet in Starfleet medical had. Afterwards the used wipes and McCoy’s used hazard suit followed the coverall into the rapidly disappearing pouch. </p><p>Chekov still stared listlessly at his lap, but he was beginning to shiver. McCoy was cold too, and he hadn’t been stripped down to his thermal underwear. </p><p>Putting his gloves back on, McCoy took off his coat and coaxed Chekov into it, sealing it up to his chin. Then he inched over, doing his best not to rock the boat, until he was sitting next to Chekov and wrapped his arm around the other man.</p><p>“Vhy...? Vhy did he do zhat?” Chekov asked, his voice choked.</p><p>“Your uncle was infected.” McCoy told him gently. “When he fell, his suit was torn, and his arm was punctured.”</p><p>Chekov closed his eyes and McCoy saw his tears shining in the moonlight. His stuttering breaths were fast and shallow. </p><p>“Ok.” McCoy put his arm around the kid’s shoulders. “Come on.” He helped Chekov to lie down in the bottom of the boat, tucking his pack under the kid’s head for a pillow. Sitting up, McCoy shifted forwards, reaching for the edges of the pod boat.</p><p>“Where are you going?” Chekov asked, his fingers clutching McCoy’s bicep. </p><p><i>Where would I go</i>? McCoy wondered. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me, kid.” He said. He already felt queasy from the asymmetric motion of the water. He took a big breath of fresh air, grateful for the light spray from the river. </p><p>McCoy tugged at the pod boat’s edges until they stretched and extended. He pulled them over the two of them until they met in the middle, sealing the pod. Then McCoy laid down beside Chekov — they were in an aquatic tent, a shelter. McCoy felt better for it.</p><p>He wrapped his arms around the Chekov — the kid was shaking. They were both in shock, McCoy remembered. They were both lost on a strange planet, out of touch with everyone they knew, with a rampaging virus very literally trying to kill them. They both needed what paltry comfort they could give each other.</p><p>Chekov snuggled against McCoy, pulling him close. He could feel the younger man’s warm exhalation on his neck, feel his chest heaving with every breath. McCoy hadn’t held anyone like this in years. It surprised him how well Chekov fit in his arms. </p><p>Though lying on the bottom of the boat was far from comfortable, with the layers of clothes, the insulating boots, Pavel Chekov pressed against him, and the pod sealed above them keeping away the chill night air, McCoy felt <i>warm</i>.</p><p>Just for a little while, McCoy decided, he could let himself believe that they were safe.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I've thought a lot about Omicron Settlement whilst worldbuilding — not just the macguffin radiation that keeps the Enterprise from simply beaming up their people. That would be a very different story, the virus loose on the ship...</p><p>Does no one read Star Trek fics? Perhaps I was spoiled writing Sherlock... or do I need to find the audience? Not a ton of crossover I guess.</p><p>Thoughts?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Harbor House</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>DAY TWO: morning</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>McCoy drifted between sleeping and waking for a long time, the gray light making him think of the early summer mornings in Georgia, when the mist would sit in the pastures until the sun rose high enough to burn it off. </p><p>The light was never that beautiful on the Enterprise. That’s how McCoy knew he was dreaming — dreaming of idyllic mornings in childhood before his mother died, before anyone had broken his heart, before he knew how to hide his vulnerabilities behind gruffness and bourbon, shutting down any suggestion of romance... <i>dreaming of running through the cool morning air to the barn to feed the chickens and the horses, running through the arbor where mother’s flowers made his heart feel tight and pure in his chest.</i></p><p>
  <i>Running with Alonzo from the next farm over, his skinny legs and fair hair akimbo when Leonard tumbled atop him in the hay loft. Alonzo with his soft lips and firm hands, fitting in the curve of his body.</i>
</p><p>Leonard was dreaming of Alonzo now... <i>Alonzo laying in his arms, his deep, rhythmic breathing telling him Alonzo was asleep pressed so tightly against his side... </i></p><p>When was the last time someone had held him like this? Like they were just discovering love and couldn’t bear to let go?</p><p>Leonard couldn’t remember. Jocelyn never had — she said he was too hot to hold onto, that if she cuddled with him, she would combust.</p><p>As long as he was dreaming, Leonard might as well dream that it was Pavel in his arms — or what had his uncle called him? Pasha? The name suited him. Beautiful, smart, too-good-for-him Pasha. <i>Pasha with soft lips and determined hands pressed up against his chest with a passion too great to deny... they’d made love. Leonard’s body was sore all over — he’d bent and stretched in unfamiliar ways as he’d worshipped every inch of Pasha’s lovely body.</i></p><p>The bed rocked and Leonard’s stomach rolled. He opened his eyes — the gray light transformed into a greenish roof six inches from his face, glowing from the sunlight shining on its other side. The events of the previous day flooded back — the virus, the horror of the infected, Strong, Rhys, Wals, Chekov’s uncle... Chekov <i>in his arms</i>, a hellish parody of his idyllic dream. The dull queasiness in his gut grew sharp and urgent.</p><p>McCoy swallowed his gorge, flopping onto his back and bumping his head against something hard — the axe handle. When he had control of his nausea he reached up (every muscle in his arm screaming) and opened the seam, folding back a corner. The sunlight dazzled his eyes, blinding him momentarily. Chekov made an irritated noise in his sleep and burrowed more tightly into McCoy’s side.</p><p>And then the breathtaking cold hit, whooshing into their sanctuary in the pod. McCoy’s lungs contracted, recoiling from the bitter chill and he coughed, disturbing Chekov again. </p><p>As little as McCoy wanted to disengage from warm, clinging Russian, he knew they couldn’t waste the sunlight — he remembered how quickly the sun had set yesterday, how fast the shadows had lengthened and the infected come calling. Who knew how much sunlight they’d slept away already?</p><p>“Chekov.” McCoy prodded. “Lieutenant.”</p><p>“Mmmmrph.” Chekov mumbled, hiding his face against McCoy’s side.</p><p>McCoy couldn’t help but smile. He stroked sandy curls wishing there was time to let the kid sleep, or at least wake him more gently. “Come on, Lieutenant. We’re wasting sunlight.” He shook Chekov’s shoulder and the younger man startled awake, his eyes growing round in shock when he realized against whom he was cuddled.</p><p>Chekov bolted upright, shifting away at the same time, saying something urgent in Russian. Some sort of apology or excuse, McCoy figured, given how red Chekov’s cheeks and ears had become. </p><p>“Don’t worry about it, Lieutenant… this situation we find ourselves in... we’re gonna have to depend on each other if we’re gonna survive.” McCoy said. “And we’re <i>gonna</i> survive. Unless I freeze to death.” He shivered dramatically and moderated his tone, trying for something lighter. “I’m a Southern boy, I’m not built for weather like this.”</p><p>Chekov looked up gratefully. “Vhere I grew up, zhis ees temperate.”</p><p>“Better you than me.” McCoy coughed and looked around. “At least we don’t have to worry about how to get to shore.”</p><p>They weren’t on the river proper any longer, but caught in a harbor, their small boat pressed sideways against a jetty — there would be no struggle to get to shore. They wouldn’t even have to get wet. McCoy was overjoyed to find his first worry disposed of with no effort on his part. His bladder was becoming increasingly insistent and McCoy doubted his ability to stand up and piss off the side of the boat in the calm harbor, let alone the swift currents of the river.</p><p><i>May everything be this easy.</i> He thought.</p><p>Picking up his pack and the long gun, McCoy pushed on the pod boat’s landward side until it folded down into a gangplank of sorts, hooking into the dirt. McCoy gingerly stood up and stepped onto dry land. He bent over with his hands on his knees for a second allowing his inner ear to accept that the ground below him was no longer rocking asymmetrically but opened his eyes in time to see Chekov step nimbly from the boat carrying the axe.</p><p>“Let’s get out of this wind.” McCoy said, slinging his pack onto his back. He was already freezing without his coat and Chekov didn’t exactly look warm. “We can eat something and figure out where the hell we are and how to get back to the shuttle.”</p><p>Chekov nodded, looking around, getting his bearings. He looked at the pea green sky, at the moons, and muttering something unintelligible, turned in a slow circle, the wind blowing his curls and reddening his cheeks. Abruptly he stopped and swore loudly in his mother tongue.</p><p>“What’s wrong?” McCoy asked, alarmed.</p><p>“Zhe mountains.” Chekov said. He dropped the axe and began searching through the pockets of McCoy’s coat. He threw the sleek gray communicator on the ground and held up the medical scanner with a puzzled look.</p><p>McCoy grabbed the scanner from his hand. “What are you looking for?” </p><p>“Zhe PaDD. I had a PaDD.”</p><p>McCoy shrugged.</p><p>“Een my pocket!” Chekov turned back to search the boat though it was obviously empty.</p><p>“Oh, uh… your coat was contaminated. I had to get rid of it.”</p><p>Chekov stared at him wild eyed. “Zhe phasers vhere een my coat!”</p><p>McCoy cursed himself silently. “Well, they’re gone now, Lieutenant.” He said. He examined the scanner wishing once again for his medical tricorder — it had Chekov’s files and right now McCoy wanted to refer to them. Chekov didn’t look good. His hair was matted and dull, his skin too pale, and he looked miserable; lost, cold and very, very young. If the kid coughed right now, he’d admit him to the Medbay first and run the tests later.</p><p>But he didn’t have a Medbay right now. McCoy scanned Chekov, trying to get meaningful readings on the frustratingly basic tool. Chekov had elevated blood pressure and heart rate, but within healthy limits. His oxygen absorption was good, and his lungs seemed clear.</p><p>“You are not listening to me!” Chekov fumed.</p><p>McCoy tucked the scanner away. “Something about the mountains.” He prompted. “They look pretty much the same to me.” Maybe the navy forest was bigger, but they were farther away now.</p><p>Chekov huffed incredulously. “Zhey are ower zher.” He said pointing. “Yesterday, zhey vere ower <i>zhere</i>!” Chekov pointed in the opposite direction. “Ve are on zhe ozher side of zhe mountains!” </p><p>McCoy scoffed. “We’re probably just a little farther downstream than you thought we’d be. We’ll find a hovercar and drive back to the city.”</p><p>“Did you read anyzhing about zhis planet, Doktor?” Chekov exclaimed impatiently. “Zhere are almost no cars here. Zhey use public trams for most transportation — and zhe trams ve saw een zhe city vere <i>shut down</i>.”</p><p>“There were hovercars all over the place!” McCoy protested.</p><p>“For a city zhat size? Ve saw wery few. And zhey vere all trucks or fancy gowernmental limousines.”</p><p>“Fine, we’ll figure out another way to get back.” McCoy said mulishly. He dropped the useless communicator in his coverall pocket. “It’s freezing. Can we talk about it somewhere warmer?” He didn’t wait for agreement, simply turned on his heel and stalked towards the shore.</p><p>Chekov caught up before McCoy had finished traversing the jetty. It was wide enough for them to walk abreast, but no wider, and the wind whipped their clothes and hair to and fro. </p><p>“I am right.” Chekov said softly. “Eet ees my job, nawigating. I can tell by zhe position of zhe moons and zhe sun, ve are on zhe other side of zhe mountains.”</p><p>Reflexively, McCoy glanced up at the moons — four were visible in the light green sky; the small ruddy one and a larger pale blue satellite overhead, a darker blue moon nearing the horizon, and an ivory giant rising over the mountains. The sun wasn’t high in the sky yet, it was still morning... but that was all McCoy could tell from the sky.</p><p>Chekov was the navigator, one of the best in Starfleet. Of course, he was right. He would have memorized the placement and rotation of the moons and how to use them to find their way.</p><p>But he <i>couldn’t be right</i>! They couldn’t be that far away from the shuttle! It had to be a mistake!</p><p>“Doktor,” Chekov said stiffly. “I do not try to diagnose illness. I leave zhat to you. You can trust me vith zhe nawigation.”</p><p>McCoy felt that knowledge weigh him down. He swore silently, letting go of the tantrum he wanted to throw. <i>They didn’t have time for that</i>. “You’re right, Lieutenant. I’m sorry.” He muttered. “How far are we from Settlement City? Do you have any idea?”</p><p>“I cannot say for certain — not vithout a map. But from zhe position of zhe moons and zhe mountains, I vould guess ve are approximately sewenty to ninety kilometers east of Settlement City.”</p><p>“Seventy!” McCoy was gobsmacked.</p><p>“To ninety. As zhe crow flies. Farzher on foot.”</p><p>“The Enterprise isn’t going to find us way out here!” McCoy exclaimed.</p><p>“Zhe Enterprize cannot find us. Zhey cannot see zhrough zhe omicron radiation.”</p><p>“I know, I know…  but we can’t <i>walk</i> seventy klicks.” McCoy protested. “That would take days!”</p><p>Chekov sighed, a defeated sound. “Ve are not valking ower zhe mountains.”</p><p>“But we have to get back to the Shuttle, Chekov.” McCoy said. “Or contact the Enterprise somehow.”</p><p>“Da, I know.”</p><p>They needed a plan. They needed more information. Dammit, they needed breakfast! McCoy unslung his pack as they walked and pulled out the water bottle. The drink felt good in his mouth and woke his stomach to the hunger that the stress and shock of the previous day had repressed.</p><p>He handed the water to Chekov. “There’s a building not far inland.” He said, pointing it out. “If we avoid that stand of trees and approach from the far side... looks like as good a place as any to get out of the wind and figure out what we’re going to do.”</p><p>Chekov agreed. They shared the water as they walked up the beach and circled around avoiding a spit of forest. In the shade of the trees, McCoy could see figures lurking. They moved, but never left the shadows. It was unnerving. </p><p>The house was older than the pod structures that dominated Settlement City, and more static. A rectilinear prefab with transparent walls on two sides, it couldn’t be manipulated into new shapes as could the pods. It also didn’t appear to be self-recycling — so it would stand despite being unused. </p><p>From outside they could see that sunlight filled the rooms. </p><p>Chekov used the axe as a ram to pop the locked door. As soon as McCoy set foot indoors he shuddered in relief — only aware when it was alleviated how tense he’d been out in the open.</p><p>The first thing they did was find the heaviest piece of moveable furniture — a transparent-front cabinet filled with antique books — and shifted it in front of the door. It wouldn’t keep out someone determined to get in, but it would give them plenty of warning. McCoy made a beeline for the fireplace and started a fire, while Chekov began to search for things they could use.</p><p>Within three minutes he shouted in triumph and waved a PaDD in the air. He would have sat down right where he was to study it, but McCoy bullied him in front of the fire. He left the kid flicking through map pages to scavenge in the kitchen. </p><p>The replicator was online, but only had a small amount of matter left in its chamber — and unfortunately the recycler wasn’t the kind where he could toss a bunch of stuff in and turn it into matter for the replicator. McCoy used what fuel it had to refill his water bottle and to make a rucksack containing a large bladder of water that Chekov could carry on his back. The little fuel that was left, McCoy converted into small, calorie-dense mini-bars. They would be easy to carry and keep them going.</p><p>The cold drawer was working, McCoy opened it hoping to find fruit or eggs or something he could make into breakfast. But the fresh food was spoiled and moldy — enough to almost smother McCoy’s appetite again. He shut the drawer quickly. </p><p>Whoever lived there kept handmade dishes — they were attractive things, brightly colored, hand-thrown pottery, the sort of art that the replicator couldn’t produce. Several of the cabinets were full of the stuff. In the back of one, McCoy found a cache of MREs — five in total. </p><p>With a sense of triumph, he stowed them all in an outer pocket of the water bladder. No telling how long they’d be on this blasted rock, and having real food, even if it was just a camping MRE, to break up the monotony of meal replacement bars would be good for morale.</p><p>McCoy laughed bitterly — when he got to the point where a bit of hot chicken a la king was the bright spot in his day, maybe he’d just kill himself. </p><p>The house had a utility closet. McCoy searched through the garden drones and cleaning bots, pocketing a fancy multitool attachment from a repair bot, and hefting an old-fashioned prybar. Remembering the wedge Chekov had packed at Galbraith Station, he set it with their packs.</p><p>Upstairs, McCoy found clothes. And better, the master bath. Without conscious thought, his fingers were unsealing his coverall and turning on the sonic shower. He felt disgusting! Still covered in a smelly film of oily decontamination fluid, wearing clothes he’d sweated in and then slept in. He let the sonics take the outermost layer of skin cells from his body, along with all the filth, bacteria, and contaminants that had built up upon him, and stepped out feeling fresh… </p><p>…until he got a look at himself in the mirror. His torso was bruising where the hovercar straps had held him when they’d crashed, and his forehead had a purpling egg where he’d hit the windshield. No wonder his entire body ached.</p><p>He found a family-sized roll of tooth cleaner and chewed one while he examined his bruises. McCoy couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t just used a dermal regenerator on himself at the first sign of discoloration. </p><p>It was uncomfortable, but at least he was clean. Now if he could scavenge clean clothes...</p><p>However, when he searched the closet and drawers, all the clothes were much too small for him.</p><p>“Vhat are you doing?” McCoy jumped! He hadn’t heard Chekov come up the stairs. Thank God he’d put one of the pairs of thermal underwear back on — the outer layer, figuring it was cleaner than the set he’d worn against his skin.</p><p>“Looking for something to wear.” McCoy said. Chekov’s eyes roamed over his bare torso and clean hair and McCoy felt guilty for wasting time on a shower. “You should shower too.” He said defensively. “And change your clothes — we could still be carrying contaminants.”  </p><p>Slowly, Chekov nodded. He set the PaDD down on the bed and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. </p><p>McCoy dressed quickly after that. He found a couple thermal undershirts that had enough stretch to “fit” if he didn’t mind them tight (and that didn’t stink of his fear sweat) and a sweater that was only a little snug. There was lots of clothing that would do for Chekov — McCoy laid thermal underwear, jeans, shirts and sweaters out on the bed. Then he put his Galbraith Station coverall back on, adding the pullover under the hooded jacket and went back downstairs to feed the fire.</p><p>Ten minutes later, Chekov sat down next to McCoy and accepted the half of a meal replacement bar the Doctor offered. They ate in silence. </p><p>“Ok Lieutenant,” McCoy said as he brushed the crumbs from his lap. “How are we getting off this rock?”</p><p>Chekov took a breath and woke up the PaDD, pulling up a map. “First, ve should forget about Settlement City — ve are not going back zhere.”</p><p>“We can’t go back the way we got here?” McCoy asked. “Up the river?”</p><p>Chekov flipped through several screens on his PaDD and held up the result. “Subterranean cawerns. Zhe riwer flows zhrough subterranean cawerns, ve cannot go back zhat vay.”</p><p>“Wait! We got here through... <i>caves</i>!?”</p><p>“More like a tunnel. Eet says here zhat eet ees wery dangerous, full of .... <i>Der'mo</i>! Predatory arachnids! Zewen foot tall predatory arachnids!”</p><p>“Giant spiders.” McCoy shuddered. “We floated through caves full of giant spiders.”</p><p>“Da.” Chekov looked as pale and sick as McCoy felt. </p><p>“And I’m guessing that going <i>over</i> the mountains isn’t feasible either.”</p><p>“No — zhe tram vas disabled vhen zhey quarantined zhis area. And hiking ower zhe mountains… there are more efficient vays to reach zhe Enterprise.”</p><p>“OK. We’re not going back to Settlement City. What <i>are</i> we doing?”</p><p>“I zhink ve have two options.” Chekov said. “Zhere is a city about twenty kilometers from here — eet ees called Carson.” He pointed to it on the map. “Zhey could have comms zhere strong enough to reach zhe Enterprise.”</p><p>“As good as that sounds,” McCoy said — and it <i>did</i> sound great! If they could find a vehicle of some kind, they could be back on the ship for dinner! “A city is apt to be full of infected people.” That hadn’t gone so well yesterday.</p><p>“Yes. Ve vould have to get een and out before dark.”</p><p>Long before dark — if the comms were broken or not strong enough, they’d need time to find a safe bolt hole until daylight.</p><p>“And the second option?” McCoy asked.</p><p>“Zhere ees a small spaceport one hundred and tventy kilometers avay. Eet ees used mostly for importing goods zhat Omicron doesn’t produce eetself. Zhey vould have comms for certain — and maybe ewen a ship or shuttle ve could use.”</p><p>McCoy studied the map. “It’s not attached to a city.”</p><p>“No, not for tventy K een any direction. So, zhere vould likely be fewer infected. However, eet ees surrounded by forest preserves and zhe main vay een and out ees by tram.”</p><p>“So, far away and hard to get to.” McCoy said. He rubbed his face — he dreaded walking back into a situation like they’d just escaped. “We have to try the city first. It’s just twenty K from here.”</p><p>“Da.” Chekov agreed. “Ve should not vaste any more daylight.”</p><p>“No.” McCoy looked sadly at the fireplace. “It’s time to get a move on.”</p><p>Fifteen minutes later they were hiking away from the house, Chekov wearing a heavy coat they’d found, and the water bladder with the MREs strapped to his back. He carried the axe and had the prybar shoved through his belt.</p><p>McCoy had the coat from Galbraith Station back, and the knit hat and gloves on. Tucked in his rucksack, in addition to the medical supplies, the scanner, the extra hazard suit pods, meal-replacement bars, camp light, and other odds and ends he’d hastily packed at Galbraith Station, were the high-calorie min-bars he’d synthesized, two pairs of clean socks, the fancy multitool, the roll of tooth-cleaners, and a first aid kit he’d found in the bathroom. It was a lot of stuff to carry, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that they’d need it.</p><p>Movement in the forest accompanied them all along the path to the house. </p><p>Chekov also had a phaser they’d found in the house. There wasn’t much of a charge left in it, not even a quarter, but it was something. McCoy had the projectile weapon — his grandfather had taken him shooting regularly when he’d spent summers on the farm. He knew how to shoot, knew how to clean and oil the hunting rifles, knew the recoil of the different gauges. Grampa McCoy had even taught him how to gut and skin the rabbits and other small animals they shot.</p><p>The path led to a tram station and a tangle of the raised woven walking paths. Wary of running down the PaDD’s charge, they followed the holo signs that leapt to life as they approached, towards the village. According to the holo, it was a six-click hike.</p><p>The sun was directly overhead. McCoy gave Chekov one of the calorie-dense bars and forced himself to eat one as well. They needed to get to the village as quickly as possible. </p><p>The walking path led into the forest.</p><p>Chekov turned on the PaDD. They were surrounded by the forest. The only way out was through.</p><p>They found a backpack, torn open, its contents strewn along the sunny path for ten meters. McCoy carefully picked up the abandoned survival tarp and attached it to his rucksack. Twenty meters farther along, at the edge of the forest, they found blood. </p><p>Just off the path, in the long blue grass, McCoy found the corpse of a Tellarite, mauled to death. </p><p>“Wals.” McCoy muttered.</p><p>“Vhat, Doktor?”</p><p>“Doctor Wals. On the riverside we were cut off and she couldn’t get to the boat. I told her to go to the shuttle...” McCoy sighed heavily. “I hope she didn’t end up like this.”</p><p>The thought that he had gotten all three of the remaining staff of Galbraith Station killed was untenable. McCoy had spent his life trying to heal people and in the past twelve hours he’d dithered about Strong and gotten Rhys infected, which forced them to flee the station, leading to Doctor Chekov’s infection and death. He’d bashed in the heads of innumerable people with the virus and now McCoy might be responsible for the mauling death of an Andorian who’d done nothing but try to help them.</p><p>“…help…”</p><p>“Oh God!” The Tellarite wasn’t dead. He <i>should</i> be — his guts were pulled out of his torso, organs exposed, limbs chewed, even his head gnawed bloody. McCoy had the diagnostic tool out of his rucksack in an instant as he knelt next to the unfortunate Tellarite. The basic tool confirmed a heartrate, but it couldn’t decide on a blood pressure — most of its indicators simply turned red. McCoy felt utterly helpless — he didn’t have anything which could help, nothing to ease the man’s suffering, let alone begin to repair his grievous wounds. </p><p>Who was he kidding? The Tellarite was beyond repair. He was dying. </p><p>“I’m here.” McCoy said softly, trying to decide if touching some unbitten flesh would be comforting or not. “What can I do?” He’d learned that the dying often simply didn’t want to be alone. </p><p>“…kill me…” the creature gasped. “…please…”</p><p>The Tellarite’s bite wounds weren’t fresh, McCoy noted. He’d been laying here dying for a long time — days maybe. Tellarites were strong, he could linger for days more, his heart pumping the same pint of blood to his brain over and over and over…</p><p>“You’re sure?” McCoy asked. He had to ask even if he knew the answer. Even if it was cruel to make the Tellarite repeat himself. </p><p>“…kill me…”</p><p>McCoy caressed an expanse of untouched cheek near the Tellarite’s snout. “I will.” The creature sighed in unmistakable relief, and McCoy caressed him again. Putting away the diagnostic tool, the doctor put the rucksack on his back and readied the long gun. Making sure there was a projectile in the chamber, he cocked it and exchanged a glance with Chekov. Then he aimed the barrel at the Tellarite’s heart and pulled the trigger.</p><p>The recoil shoved McCoy backwards as the report momentarily deafened him.</p><p>And the forest <i>surged</i>.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hi! I hope you're enjoying reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! </p><p>I imagine Harbor House as a rectangular midcentury modern, glass on the two long sides with a gorgeous view of the river, forest and mountains. It has a comfortably worn interior with lots of open space and some midcentury furniture. Maybe it's where the harbormaster lived. Regardless, it has been there since the early days of the establishment of a settlement on Omicron.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Towns and Suburbs</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>DAY TWO: afternoon</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>McCoy grabbed Chekov — lifting him bodily off the ground and clutching the young Russian against his side — and yanked him out of the range of the slashing claws. He swung around shoving Chekov behind him and used the butt of the long gun to bash in the forehead of the large purple ghoul reaching for them. Then they ran, retreating from the infected streaming out of the trees! In daylight!</p><p>Chekov pulled the phaser and, running backwards, shot into the horde of dark purple bodies. McCoy dragged him along his boots pounding a tattoo on the woven bamboo-like walkway. He had the long gun in one hand and his other hand clinging to the Lieutenant’s as he sprinted.</p><p>Abruptly, Chekov planted his feet shoved them sideways, into the grass. </p><p>“What—?!”</p><p>Chekov clapped his hand over McCoy’s mouth. “Zhey are blind!” He whispered. “Look at zhem.”</p><p>McCoy looked. The infected were even more horrifying in daylight, their skins a deep, lurid purple, the wounds where their noses and breasts and genitalia had come off, raw and bloody. They stumbled around, bumping into each other, gnashing their teeth and flailing their long, black claws. They were simultaneously more Human and more monstrous, and McCoy wanted to choke the life out of whoever had crafted this hideous virus — because seeing them like this, there was no question in his mind whatsoever that someone had <i>made this disease purposefully</i>.</p><p>The more pressing matter at hand, however, was escape. McCoy and Chekov crept away noiselessly, back to the tram station where the holo leapt up to show them the way to the harbor, the beach, and the village.</p><p>Chekov was examining the tramway.</p><p>“Think you can get that thing to work?” McCoy whispered, grimacing at the station. There were no tram cars in sight and no visible control room in the little open-air shelter that protected commuters from the harsher elements. Maybe if they pulled up some of the floor panels? Were there panels in the floor?</p><p>“Not zhe tram, but zhere ees a maintenance pod. I zhink I could get zhat going.”</p><p>McCoy hadn’t even noticed the tiny thing. It was roughly half the size of a coffin and twice as deep and that comparison sprung to the doctor’s mind because he was certain if he got in it would be the death of him. It was tethered five meters from the station, on the side of the tramway, and McCoy could just make out the rungs one would have to climb to reach it.</p><p>“You have got to be kidding me.” He protested more loudly than he should have.</p><p>“Zhey are getting closer, Doktor.” Chekov said, stowing the PaDD inside his coat, sealing it up, and shoving the axe through his belt. He checked that the phaser was securely in his pocket then leapt up and grabbed the lowest rung of the ladder. He chinned up, the toe of his shoe searching for purchase against the smooth pole and reached up with one arm and grabbed the rung above. McCoy watched as the kid swarmed up to the maintenance pod effortlessly — he didn’t even appear to be breathing hard when he got there. He hated Chekov a little bit in that moment.</p><p>But Chekov was right. The blind atrocities were getting closer. They had heard him talking or heard Chekov climbing — or both — and had a bead on him now. McCoy had no choice. </p><p>His first jump for the rung was just embarrassing. But he caught it on the second, did the chin up with ease, and managed to get his legs wrapped around the pole. That allowed McCoy to move his hands to the next rung and pull himself up again. It felt like it took forever but once he got his feet on the rungs, the whole ordeal was easier — and he felt a lot safer. </p><p>Safer until he climbed into the pod-coffin with Chekov. </p><p>The thing <i>swung back and forth</i>!</p><p>McCoy did not like to fly. He did not like planes, shuttles, or ships. Trams were marginally better, they ran on a track, so were less likely to plunge suddenly to the earth. And they were earthbound, so if they cracked, they wouldn’t boil your eyeballs in your skull. Or flash-freeze your eyeballs on the way to turning your body into a giant popsicle within forty seconds. </p><p>Trams were marginally better that flying. But only marginally, they were a bit too much like roller coasters for McCoy’s comfort. And there was no reason they had to go so fast! 

<i>This</i> thing, this maintenance pod was much, much worse! It <i>had no top</i>! presumably so the maintenance workers could get at the tramway to maintain it. It was completely logical. But being logical didn’t mean McCoy had to like it! Just ask that cold-blooded sonufobitch, Spock!</p><p>If Chekov noticed McCoy’s discomfort, he gave no indication. He was busy studying the instrument panel. He pulled the axe and tried to slide its edge into an almost invisible seam. </p><p>“Hold on a second.” McCoy said. Moving slowly, to rock the pod as little as possible — he was a pretty big guy, sure, but nothing out of the ordinary... but sharing the maintenance pod with Chekov made him feel like huge, clumsy oaf — he unstrapped his rucksack and fished out the multitool attachment from the repair bot. </p><p>Chekov took the thing and made a happy noise. He pulled up a screwdriver and used the fine wedge to pry open a panel and expose the internal workings. </p><p>Choosing another tool, he carefully prodded until a bundle of wires presented themselves. Chekov promptly clipped several, twisted two of them together, closed the multitool and stowed it in his pocket then touched the ignition. The maintenance pod hummed to life. </p><p>That’s when McCoy noticed the loops where the workers were supposed to clip their safety harnesses — that he and Chekov did not have. He sunk lower in the pod, pulling his knees tight to his chest to find room, and gripped the edges with white knuckles as Chekov drove them high over the forest. The top speed of the pod was a modest 20 kph, which he found comforting. The trams sped along at 300 kph, getting you to your destination in minutes, if not seconds. McCoy could imagine doing that in the open-air pod only too well. </p><p>It was even colder above the forest than it had been at ground level, and the wind whipped them around. It was worse — much worse — than the river. McCoy gave up on crouching and sat his butt down and put his head between his knees, hoping he wasn’t crowding Chekov too much, and concentrated on not spewing meal replacement bar all over the bottom of the maintenance pod.</p><p>Finally, he could tell they were descending, and he was so relieved he coulda thrown a party right there in the damn coffin. But as much as he hated it, McCoy had to ask. “Could we take this thing all the way to Carson?” He could grit his teeth and do this all day if it meant he would be on the Enterprise before dark.</p><p>Chekov peered down at him, concern puckering his brow. “Zhis pod ees for zhis stretch of track only. Ve might be able to find anozer.”</p><p>McCoy nodded, not sure if he were relieved or not. </p><p>The village showed every indication that it had been decimated by the infection. The tram let them off on the main thoroughfare where self-recycling pod buildings stood, brown and wilting, much farther along in the reclamation process than they’d seen in Settlement City. They found the walkway towards Carson, it was littered with debris — bits of clothing and personal items, a child’s doll covered in dried blood, laser knives, a mangled bicycle, broken glass, a headless manikin wearing a gown, laying across the threshold of a wilting shop, a smashed PaDD, broken bits of brightly-colored pottery — like the dishes McCoy had found in the house by the harbor — weathered boxes of meal-replacement bars, a bloody jildur bat, a broken cleaning bot, an overturned pod stroller, a number of phasers completely out of charge, a large area of burned buildings…</p><p>There was dried blood everywhere, spatters and sprays, dribbles and pools. And corpses. Quite a lot of corpses. A fair few burned, the smell of cooked meat thick and fetid in the air. Others had used projectile weapons on themselves or cut their throats and bled out. McCoy saw more than one amateur amputation — trying to head off the infection from a bite, he assumed. He wondered if it had been successful — the bitten leg was there, or the hand, the arm, but the rest was not. Had the person walked away virus-free? Or with black eyes streaming with blood? At least one had to be successful for people to keep trying it… right?</p><p>McCoy’s professional eye told him the owner of the leg had bled out. That was a shit way to die — with fear so strong you submit to a literal hatchet job and spend your last minutes in excruciating pain, screaming in terror and body horror... no thank you! He’d stick a phaser in his mouth first.</p><p>Chekov spent minimal time looking for another maintenance pod on the tramways. There was movement in the shadows — in the darkened windows and between the buildings — they both knew they could not stay there long.</p><p>Briefly consulting the PaDD, Chekov led them to a well-hidden road — the only road in the village, it led directly to Carson. McCoy speculated it was used for cargo that could not easily fit on the trams.

It had a wide woven walkway overtop a screening wall — to shield the unsightly road from delicate sensibilities. The walkway was well-appointed with benches and water stations under shady trees. The road, in comparison, was barren and clearly old, the edges repaired many times where the foliage had encroached. It probably dated back to the founding of the Omicron Settlement. Pettily, McCoy wondered if it was made of recyclable material. </p><p>By unspoken agreement, they walked in the road, avoiding the walkway with its abandoned treasures and dried blood. </p><p>They didn’t speak, knowing now that staying quiet meant staying alive. They tramped down the highway at a pace McCoy suspected was a mite too slow for Chekov’s patience, but fast enough to keep the Doctor’s blood flowing. He kept his breathing under control, counting his inhales and exhales as he would on a treadmill, and enjoyed feeling warm for once. After a while, even his fingertips thawed.</p><p>They walked until the forest gave way to fields of grains and root vegetables. The wide-open spaces with only a line of trees here and there serving as windbreaks, soothed the fear and tension that gripped McCoy. He saw Chekov relax his vigilance too.</p><p>“Vhat do you zhink happened to zhe Keptin and Meester Spock?”</p><p>“They” McCoy said scoffing. “Are on the Enterprise right now and I guarantee you, Spock is telling Starfleet the virus is ‘fascinating,’”</p><p>Chekov looked hopeful. “You zhink zhey made it back to zhe shuttle?”</p><p>“Oh, I know they did.” McCoy grumbled. “Jim Kirk isn’t dying in a pandemic on some backwater like Omicron. I don’t even know why I worry about him so much… lucky bastard always walks away smelling like roses.” The doctor scoffed again. “He’s up there right now goading Spock and Scotty into inventing a way to scan through omicron radiation.”</p><p>“Eet can’t be done.” Chekov protested.</p><p>McCoy shrugged. “Then he’ll find some other way to search for us.”</p><p>He watched the Lieutenant chew on that for a while. McCoy wondered if the kid thought Jim walked on water like at least sixty percent of the crew, if he thought the Captain was just a talented man surrounded by hardworking, talented people, or if he was like McCoy, just waiting for the idiot’s luck to run out.</p><p>It hardly mattered. Nothing was gonna shake McCoy’s conviction that Jim was on the Enterprise right now, where he belonged. And not because McCoy was scared shitless and needed to think that his best friend was up there searching for him — or not <i>only</i> because of that. Hell, maybe he <i>did</i> buy into the invulnerability of James T. Kirk after all. But while McCoy could understand this virus taking some washed up, middle aged nobody like him, it was unthinkable that it would infect Jim. Or Pavel Chekov for that matter. The kid was way too good to die like this.</p><p>McCoy remembered his promise to Doctor Chekov. It had been easy to make. As far as McCoy was concerned, his only job on Omicron, was to get Pavel Chekov off the damned icy rock in the same condition he’d come down. Because if Chekov died here, the universe was deprived of someone truly special. The kid’s potential could not be overestimated. Just look at what he’d already done! And he was barely out of his teens.</p><p>If McCoy died, there were only two people who would really feel it. Jim would miss him, but he had Spock to help him through. And the Enterprise. And Jo... well it’s not like he was much more than a face on the screen a few times a week. McCoy wasn’t feeling sorry for himself, he was being realistic — he just wasn’t a people person. His other friends... they’d be sad, but his passing wouldn’t really affect them. Not until they got themselves injured anyway. M’Benga wasn’t half the surgeon he was.</p><p>They walked in silence for a long time, each with their own thoughts. McCoy marveling that the sun could be so bright and yet warm them so little. The crops gave way to grassy fields with banks of flowers, the little butterfly-mammals flitting busily among them. Here and there they saw a utility shed or a recreation center. A garden drone hovered over a particularly dense flowering hedge. Athletic fields began appearing, and the grassy meadows became more park-like with woven paths and water stations. They were on the outskirts of Carson.</p><p>Chekov yawned.</p><p>McCoy poked the young Russian’s arm. “Wake up.”</p><p>“I am avake.”</p><p>They walked silently for another few minutes. Chekov yawned again, hugely.</p><p>McCoy should make him talk. Talking would keep them both more awake and alert. </p><p>“Uhm… what... uh... was that you were playing with… with your Uncle… it looked like chess on a flat board but…” McCoy kicked himself for bringing up Chekov’s uncle.</p><p>But Chekov smiled fondly. “<i>Bystryye shakhmaty</i>… bullet chess. It vas inwented in Russia een nineteenth century — just like two-dimensional chess, but entire game lasts only zhree minutes.”</p><p>“Three minutes?”</p><p>“Da. Growing up, I could get to ‘check’ vith eweryone but Uncle Lev in fewer zhan two minutes. Ewen now, eet takes me almost zhree…” Chekov looked lost. “I vill not play vith heem again.”</p><p>“Yeah... I didn’t mean…”</p><p>“No. Ees good to remember. He vas eemportant vhen I vas a child.”</p><p> “Yeah, uh, what was that like, Lieutenant? Uhm, your childhood? You went to university at ten?” McCoy asked gruffly. </p><p>Chekov gave him a lopsided half-smile with very little warmth in it. “Short.” He said. “Ewen een preschool, eet vas apparent zhat I vas... not like zhe ozher children. I spent most of my time vith adults — like Uncle Lev.” The Lieutenant paused, caught up in memory. “But I have many cousins zhat I grew up vith. So ewen vhen I vas homeschooled, and had special tutors, zhey treated me like zhey alvays had.” Chekov’s smile grew in warmth. “I vas encouraged to play vith zhem. Ve vould go sledding and ice skating, build fortesses een ze snow. I vas wery good at building zhe fortesses.”</p><p>McCoy bet he was. “Sounds like a good time.”</p><p>“Eet vas. I missed eet vhen mudder and I vent to Moscow for Uni.”</p><p>“Your mother went with you?” McCoy asked.</p><p>“I vas <i>ten</i>.” Chekov sounded irritated. “Vhat vhere you doing vhen you vere ten?”</p><p>McCoy chuckled and realized it didn’t sound very warm either. “I wasn’t getting a degree in advanced physics, I’ll tell you that.”</p><p>“Adwanced Zheoretical Physics.” Chekov corrected absently, as if he’d done it a thousand times before. He probably had.</p><p>“I wasn’t sledding or skating. Not much snow in Georgia.”</p><p>“Vhat did you do een Georgia?”</p><p>“Oh, after my mother died, I spent a lot of time at my Grampa’s farm.”</p><p>“I did not know your mother died vhen you vere young. I’m sorry.”</p><p>“No reason you should.” McCoy said matter-of-factly. “Gramps had horses, so I rode a bit.”</p><p>“Horses? You rode real horses!?” Chekov looked at him in wonder.</p><p>“I forget they’re pretty rare where you come from.” He said. “Farm’s still in the family, you could come see them sometime.” </p><p>“Really!?” Chekov looked both excited and astounded.</p><p>McCoy was trying to figure out how the invitation had got past his lips — he hadn’t meant it to. He’d barely formed the idea when it came blabbering out. But now the kid looked so excited, he couldn’t rescind it. “Yeah.” McCoy said gruffly. “I’ll, uh, show you how to ride.” And here he was digging himself in deeper! <i>Great job, Leonard</i>!</p><p>“I could ride?!” Chekov asked, eyes wide.</p><p>“Well, I mean... if you want to.” McCoy managed. What next? Would he stutter and shuffle his feet and ask Chekov to the malt shop to share a soda!? “As long as you promise never to make me go sledding.”</p><p>Chekov’s laugh was full and warm. “Doktor! Eet ees so much fun!”</p><p>McCoy couldn’t help the laugh, clear and pure, that escaped his throat. “If I don’t like riding in the shuttle —"</p><p>“Eet ees perfectly safe, Doktor.”</p><p>“So you keep telling me.” McCoy chuckled.  “But I don’t like it. What makes you think I’d find anything <i>fun</i> about hurtling down a frozen hill at eighty kilometers per hour on a piece of waxed plastic with no steering?”</p><p>“You are suffering under seweral misconceptions.” Chekov informed him.</p><p>“Oh yeah? Enlighten me.”</p><p>“Eet vould have to be a wery long, wery steep hill to reach eighty kilometers per hour — a skiing hill not a sledding hill. And sleds are not alvays plastic. And many have wery good steering.”</p><p>McCoy snorted. “I bet you ski too.”</p><p>“Of course. Cross country ees excellent cardio. And downheel ees super fun!”</p><p>“Yeah, no thanks.” McCoy grumbled good-naturedly. “Even if I liked that sort of thing — which I don’t — it’s cold. I hate being cold.”  </p><p>“Zhat’s right. You are delicate flower.”</p><p>“Are you making fun of me, Lieutenant?” McCoy asked, trying to keep the smile off his face and failing.</p><p>“Eet ees not funny.” Chekov said, with laughing eyes. “You vilt een zhe cold. Eet ees not your fault you vere born een a hothouse.” </p><p>“Better a hothouse than a frozen tundra.” McCoy muttered.</p><p>“I’ll have you know, I vas born two hundred kilometers south of zhe tundra.”</p><p>“Sounds downright equatorial.” What was he doing? <i>Flirting</i> with Lieutenant Chekov!? <i>Get a hold of yourself, Leonard</i>!</p><p>Chekov smiled, and they walked in companionable silence for a while. “Vhat else did you do een Georgia? Ozher zhan ride zhe horses?”</p><p>“The usual kid stuff I guess — riding bikes, goin’ swimming, generally runnin’ around wild, gettin’ dirty.” Talking about himself was less comfortable than teasing Chekov.</p><p>“Vhen did you decide you vanted to be a doctor?”</p><p>“Oh... I started thinkin’ about it in high school, I guess.” Chekov looked at him expectantly and McCoy found himself elaborating. “I was good in biology. Liked the idea of helpin’ people.”</p><p>“You do help people.” Chekov said thoughtfully. “All zhe time.”</p><p>“Yeah.” McCoy rolled his eyes. “I’m livin’ the dream.”</p><p>“Vhy do you do zhat?”</p><p>McCoy frowned. “Do what?”</p><p>“Minimize vhat you do.” Chekov said. “Belittle yourself.”</p><p>Did he do that? Sounded more like Jocelyn. She was the master of belittling Leonard McCoy, making him feel like nothing he did was ever good enough. She <i>had</i> taken everything from him, even his self-esteem.</p><p>“Bad habit.” He muttered. <i>That he'd picked up from his ex</i>. McCoy wanted to talk about <i>anything</i> other than this. “We’re getting close to Carson.”</p><p>The athletic and ornamental fields were well past, and walls had sprung up on either side, obscuring the humble road from tony suburbs. The sun had traveled across the pea green sky and the shadow from the left-hand wall was long and getting longer. It made McCoy nervous — and he could see Chekov didn’t like it either.</p><p>"How much daylight do you think we have left?" McCoy asked.</p><p>Chekov studied the sky for a moment then said, "Oh!" in a way McCoy didn't like one bit. The Lieutenant turned around still looking up and McCoy figured he was counting the moons. "Not long!" Chekov exclaimed. He pointed at the ivory giant sitting low in the northern sky. "Zhere vill be a lunar eclipse een... a half hour? Soon. Eet happens ewery zhree veeks or so. Ve must find shelter now." 

</p><p>The disappointment was acute — McCoy had been counting on getting to the comms <i>today</i>. 

</p><p><i>We don't even know for certain that Carson had the kind of enhanced comms we need to penetrate the blasted omicron radiation.</i> McCoy told himself. It was very possible that only the spaceports and the capital were equipped with that special equipment. And even if Carson did have the equipment, they had to find it. And while that probably wouldn’t be too difficult, it would still take time. Time they didn't have today.</p><p>McCoy forced himself to give up on the dream of sleeping in his own bed tonight. “Yeah, let's find someplace to hole up until morning.” Someplace safe from the infected that would be after them the second they saw or heard them.</p><p>Chekov nodded and looked around. There wasn’t much to see, just the identical ten-meter walls on either side of the road. </p><p>“Zhere.” Chekov pointed. </p><p>McCoy squinted. “That a gate?”</p><p>“I zhink so.”</p><p>It was as good as they were going to get, a way into the suburb to find their bolt hole. </p><p>The gate was locked. They used the prybar to force it open. An alarm sounded. A <i>loud</i> alarm.    </p><p>“<i>WARNING, THE ROAD IS DANGEROUS. PLEASE CLOSE THE GATE AND RETURN TO YOUR HOME. WARNING, THE ROAD IS DANGEROUS...</i>”</p><p>Swearing, they ran into the suburban community, away from the alarm, keeping out of the lengthening shadows as much as possible. They stayed off the walkways, muffling their footfalls in the waving blue grass lawns and lush beds of flowers.</p><p>Ironically, the alarm was a boon. The infected all streamed towards the noise, paying little attention to the two fugitives running the other direction.</p><p>Finally, when the alarm sounded distant and tinny — and when McCoy was out of breath and developing a stitch in his side — he stopped Chekov. </p><p>“Here?” The house McCoy pointed out looked identical to all the other graceful pod houses, but there was no litter of gory weapons on the walkway, no abandoned suitcases or blood splashed among the lavish flower beds in the yard. No rotting bodies in the tall grass clutching empty phasers. The front door was intact, not in disintegrating pieces — there weren’t even claw marks marring the pod’s surface. Chekov shrugged and pulled the phaser and the axe from his belt. He hesitated, then handed the phaser to McCoy.</p><p>The door wasn’t locked — which was odd, but handy. And no alarm blared as they stepped over the threshold. Chekov closed the door behind them and flipped the latch. </p><p>They crept into the open plan first floor — living and dining could be pulled out from the pod walls as needed while the kitchen, at the far end, was more permanent. A small hall off the kitchen presumably held a bathroom and back door. </p><p>They cleared the first floor quickly, peeking inside the few cupboards (no food). McCoy examined the big picture window overlooking the rear patio and verdant yard. It wasn’t very secure, but maybe they could get the pod to shutter it? They continued, checking behind the island and in the small bathroom.</p><p>The stairs to the second floor were on the side near the door. McCoy was feeling confident — this house wasn’t perfect, but if they were quiet, they could get a good night’s sleep, leave in the daylight, and no one would be the wiser.</p><p>The second-floor hallway led to the master bedroom, doors to smaller rooms to either side. McCoy started towards the master…</p><p><i>But a huge infected rushed out and loomed over them</i>! </p><p>McCoy shouted, pulled the trigger on the phaser, and stumbled backwards into Chekov all at the same time. He dropped the enormous infected with the phaser shot, but all the noise he made brought the rest of the family out of their rooms — what had been a petite elderly woman with a dowager’s hump, a younger, athletic woman, and children ranging in size from tot to teen, all black-skinned and black-eyed, all clacking their teeth and reaching out with their claws.</p><p>McCoy shot blindly onto the lot of them as Chekov grabbed him under the arms and dragged him down the stairs. The infected family followed them, their tortured movements on the steps looking so <i>wrong</i>! Human limbs weren’t supposed to work that way! </p><p>Chekov swore loudly at the door. It was locked! It took an interminable amount of time for Chekov to unlock it and wrench the door open — only to see more infected on the walkway spilling into the yard! The sun was dipping behind the ivory giant, eclipsing the daylight.</p><p>McCoy took Chekov by the hand and ran, shooting the infected in the way as they sprinted through the flower beds around to the back of the house. “There!” McCoy didn’t bother to point, just dragged Chekov with him, shooting the small crowd of infected people standing in the shade of the tree. “Up!” He commanded Chekov. </p><p>Chekov only hesitated for a microsecond before climbing up the rungs affixed into the trunk of the navy tree and into the treehouse perched high in its branches. With a last quick shot at a straggler, McCoy sheathed the phaser and clambered up after him. </p><p>McCoy had seen the treehouse when he’d considered the security of the picture window. Faced once again with infected on all sides, it had flown into his brain. Could the infected climb with their herky-jerky joints? McCoy sincerely hoped not. </p><p>The inside of the treehouse was small, not quite two meters long and a meter and a half wide. Neither of them could stand upright in it and the door and window only had flaps of discarded pod affixed over them to keep the wind out. Happily, the pod material was still flexible, and they were able to cover both entirely, with no leaks. If only the rest of the treehouse could say the same! </p><p>They waited tensely for infected to climb up the tree. McCoy positioned himself at the door with the phaser drawn, while Chekov rooted through the rucksack for the camp light. When a soft glow lit the interior of the dingy box they found themselves in, the Lieutenant lifted a corner of pod material and peered out the window. Eventually he resealed the window and whispered in McCoy’s ear. “Ve have a couple friends vith us. One ees scratching zhe tree, but none of zhem are making an effort to climb. I don’t zhink zhey can. Take a look.” </p><p>Nodding, McCoy handed Chekov the phaser and as quietly as possible, changed places with him, pulling up the corner of the window flap to look outside. It was dusk now, infected able to see everywhere in the dim light. That was valuable information — they didn’t need full dark to see. They would have to be especially careful in the late afternoon. If they were still on Omicron tomorrow afternoon.</p><p>God, McCoy hoped not!</p><p>McCoy saw the infected that he’d stunned lying in the flowerbeds in sad little heaps, the flowers waving over them, and he saw others milling about. A few were under their tree, their faces turned upwards as if searching for them. They probably were — they must have seen the two of them climb into the treehouse. That they weren’t attempting to follow, simply standing sentry underneath was a very good indication that Chekov was right — they couldn’t climb the ladder. </p><p>Resealing the window, McCoy unstrapped his rucksack and pulled the scavenged survival tarp from its bindings. Unrolling it, he spread it over the floor and up the sides of the treehouse. When they slept, they could cocoon inside it, but for now, it would block more of the cracks and chinks in the walls from letting in the cold wind. </p><p>McCoy shivered. It was <i>freezing</i> in the treehouse</p><p>He unpacked the water bottle and the emergency blankets, then helped Chekov take off the water bladder. McCoy pulled out the MREs and savored the happy surprise on Chekov’s face. The kid had probably never looked happier on Christmas morning than at the thought of a hot meal right now. </p><p>We should share one.” McCoy whispered. “You choose.” </p><p>He watched the Lieutenant look over meatloaf with mashed potatoes and gravy, turkey tetrazzini, spaghetti and meatballs, Salisbury steak with tater tots and peas, and chicken a la king with delight and anticipation. He pulled the turkey tetrazzini and McCoy smiled and offered the recyclable silverware and napkins he’d found back at the harbor house. “Open it.” </p><p>Chekov opened the MRE, which heated the food to a temperature almost too hot to eat. They warmed their hands over it for a few minutes. Then McCoy sat the water bottle between them and watched as Chekov painstakingly divided the meal. He didn’t protest until he caught the Lieutenant trying to give him extra turkey. </p><p>With a lifted eyebrow, McCoy used the fork to ladle it back into Chekov’s portion. Chekov held out his fork in a silent challenge and McCoy met it, fencing forks with the younger man until they both were holding in giggles.   </p><p>Being safe, relatively safe, just for a short while, made McCoy feel giddy with the relief of the terrible tension he’d carried all day. </p><p>He couldn’t remember a meal that he’d enjoyed so much. If Chekov’s satisfied expression was an indication, neither could he. </p><p>When they’d licked the platter clean — no social niceties here — McCoy repacked the other MREs and refilled the water bottle from the bladder. That left one increasingly pressing problem — where to piss. </p><p>On the road they’d taken turns looking out for one another, being careful to stay in the light at all times. It wasn’t a big deal. But the treehouse lacked bathroom facilities. </p><p>They couldn’t climb down. Hanging his prick out the door and whizzing on the poor infected below went against not just common decency, but everything he stood for as a doctor. </p><p>Finally, Chekov gestured him over to the window. He had the wadded up MRE container, and he scraped it across the pod material on the window. Nothing happened. Chekov made a tiny, irritated noise and did it again. Nothing. He turned the wrapper and tried again — and the pod material snagged. Chekov tugged on it and <i>opened a recycling pouch</i>! </p><p>Holding it open, Chekov whispered, “It will recycle our waste too.” </p><p>“Right.” Knowing his cheeks were red, McCoy crawled to the other side of the little room and busied himself opening the emergency blankets to give Chekov a minute of privacy. He set out the disinfectant wipes as well. </p><p>When it was his turn, McCoy’s bladder was so thankful, it didn’t even hesitate. He was afraid it might overflow the pouch. But he shouldn’t underestimate the Omicron pods! Whatever the hell they were made of, they worked! After he finished and cleaned up, giving the pouch the used wipes before sealing it, the flap of pod digested the lump with alarming speed. </p><p>He watched it for a minute, hunched over in the small space until he was too uncomfortable and sat down. Even with the door and window blocked and the tarp covering most of the walls, it was <i>frigid</i> in the treehouse. The hot MRE had fooled his body for a little while, but now his fingertips were numb, and he was on the verge of shivering. </p><p>Chekov coughed. </p><p>McCoy had his scanner out within seconds and was holding it in front of the kid’s chest and throat. He saw that Chekov wanted to roll his eyes, but McCoy put a stop to that with a single fierce glare — the very <i>last</i> thing they needed on top of being stranded on a planet where everyone wanted to kill them was for one of them to get sick. Bronchitis, pneumonia, pertussis, hell even the common cold could slow them down enough to make the difference in their survival. </p><p>Chekov’s lungs appeared clear. McCoy would give his eyeteeth for a better scanner. Or even a glass he could place on the younger man’s chest or back to listen to the air in his lungs firsthand. </p><p>But he had neither. </p><p>The scanner was coming up with one atypical reading. “What’s wrong with your foot, Lieutenant?” He whispered in his ‘brooks no nonsense’ tone. </p><p>Eet ees nozhing.” </p><p>Lieutenant, if this… <i>child’s toy</i>… found it, it’s not nothing.” McCoy glared. “You’re all I have down here, Chekov. If I can’t depend on you…” </p><p>Eet ees just a blister.” Chekov protested. </p><p>“Show me.” McCoy was already pulling the first aid supplies from his pack. He batted the kid’s hands out of the way and pulled Chekov’s foot into his lap, unsealing the shoe and pulling it off gently. He rolled first one and then the second sock off Chekov’s foot, leaving the last covering his forefoot. McCoy wouldn’t want <i>his</i> toes exposed to the cold air. </p><p>With one side of a disinfectant wipe, McCoy cleaned his hands again. With the other he cleaned Chekov’s foot, starting with the blister and working outwards. At some point the blister had burst and bled. </p><p>“It’s a good thing I took a look. This could get infected and then where would we be?” McCoy muttered. </p><p>In the bottom of the rucksack he found the portable tissue regenerator from Galbraith Station and unfolded it. It knit the skin of Chekov’s heel together, erasing all trace of the blister. McCoy applied moleskin to the area liberally, then pulled off the sock and replaced it with a clean one from his rucksack. “Let me see the other foot now.” </p><p>Chekov looked like he might protest, but one look at McCoy’s face and he submitted to the examination. </p><p>Zhank you.” He said when McCoy had finished and was cleaning his hands. </p><p>It’s what I’m here for.” McCoy mumbled, refolding the tissue regenerator and repacking the rucksack carefully, deciding what needed to be close to the top for easy access on the trip into Carson in the morning. He finished the water in the bottle and filled it back up from the bladder. </p><p>With not much else to do, and a long day behind them, McCoy stretched out on the tarp and arranged the emergency blankets over himself. He dithered about whether he should take his boots off. They were warm and comfortable for walking… but sleeping in them was like laying down with a couple buckets on his feet. Ultimately, he loosened them, but left them on. </p><p>He looked over at Chekov who was staring at the PaDD. </p><p>When Chekov looked up, McCoy smiled awkwardly and lifted the blankets. He wanted to be warm on this goddamn icicle of a planet and wasn’t too proud to admit it. And the kid had coughed. </p><p>Chekov smiled much less awkwardly. He turned off the PaDD and set it aside and slid gracefully under the crinkly emergency blankets with McCoy. </p><p>McCoy pulled the edges of the survival tarp together cocooning them inside. It would trap their body heat, but still exchange CO2 for oxygen all night long. </p><p>They laid there, side by side on the hard floor. McCoy wrapped his arms around his chest and tucked his gloved hands in his armpits. He’d hoped he could warm them against Chekov, maybe even inside Chekov’s coat — and invite the kid to do the same — they both had so many clothes on, it was hardly improper. It was about <i>survival</i> that was all. But he found he had no idea how to ask for it. </p><p>“Doktor?” Chekov’s voice was the barest whisper. </p><p>“Yeah?” </p><p> “Ve are friends, yes? After today?” </p><p>After today? They’d saved each other’s lives — but they’d done that yesterday, and a number of times before that on other away missions, or when Chekov was brought into his Medbay... </p><p>Today? Because they’d talked about personal things? Because they’d teased each other, and McCoy had flirted and <i>invited the kid back home for riding lessons</i>! </p><p>McCoy shifted uncomfortably. “Uhm... I guess so. Why?” </p><p>“Because my friends call me Pasha.” </p><p>“Oh. Uhm...” What was McCoy supposed to say? </p><p>“Ve are stuck on zhis planet togezher. Ve are depending on each other. And now ve are friends. So, you should call me Pasha.” </p><p>“Ok, uh, Pasha.” McCoy said. “Isn’t your name Pavel.” </p><p>Chekov’s — Pasha’s — chuckle was very quiet but amused. “Eet ees. Pasha ees a familiar name... for family and close friends.” </p><p>So now they were <i>close</i> friends! McCoy wasn’t sure he was comfortable with that. Not at all. “Oh.” </p><p>Chekov — Pasha — turned his body towards McCoy, which is what McCoy had wanted all along. But now he felt unable to move. </p><p>“Vhat do your friends call you?” Chekov — Pasha — asked. </p><p>“Me? Oh... I don’t know. ‘Leonard,’ I guess. Most people just call me ’Doctor.’” McCoy mumbled. “You know what the Captain calls me.” </p><p>“Bones.” Chekov (Pasha) whispered. “I don’t zhink you’d like anyone else to call you zhat. Eet ees priwate, for Keptin only. Yes?” </p><p>McCoy had never really thought about it that way, but the kid (Pasha) was right. From anyone else it would be... almost hurtful. Only Jim managed to take something he’d said at his lowest and turn it into a... a celebration. Jim called him ‘Bones’ because if McCoy had not been that low, that desperate, hadn’t been driven to his very last resort — Starfleet — they would never have met. And he and Jim were inseparable. Best friends and more — although too often he felt like Jim’s keeper. But he wouldn’t trade his friendship with Jim for anything.</p><p>“Yeah, Captain only.” He agreed. </p><p>McCoy could almost <i>feel</i> Pasha (Chekov) smile in the darkness. “Vhat should I call you zhat ees only for me? Only for Omicron?” </p><p>“Only for you?” McCoy turned a little towards Pasha, laying his hands between them. “I don’t know that I can give myself a nickname.” </p><p>“Zhat ees true.” Pasha (Chekov) said. “I zhink I vill call you ‘Leo.’ And maybe sometimes ‘Lyonya’ eef I am een zhe mood.” </p><p>“What mood is that?” </p><p>“Oh, you vill know when it happens, Leo.” </p><p>“Mmm. Leo.” No one had called him Leo before. He’d had ‘Len’ and sometimes even ‘Lenny.’ But he’d never thought of Leo as a diminutive for Leonard, but he liked it. </p><p>He wanted to ask more about the other name — Lyonya? But he was afraid of where it would lead. Pasha had fluttered his eyelashes and reached his fingers out and touched McCoy’s hand. And his voice had been teasing… almost flirtatious. Chekov might indeed be his friend now — if they survived, they would have shared a serious bonding experience — but he was still twenty years younger than McCoy, still completely inappropriate for anything more than friendship.</p><p>What was he thinking? The kid had only ever dated pretty young women, as far as McCoy had seen. Hell, If Chekov knew what McCoy was thinking, he would likely recoil in disgust. “Are you cold?” He asked instead. </p><p>“Yes.” Chekov (Pasha) admitted. </p><p>“I think if you were, uh, little spoon, we’d both be warmer.” </p><p>“Zhat ees a brilliant idea, Leo.” Chekov immediately began turning over. When his back was to McCoy, he unsealed his coat and opened it, then gently wrapped his arms around the smaller man and pulled him flush against his own body, letting the heat of his torso warm him. Only when he was holding him did McCoy realize Pasha was shivering. He pulled the kid in more tightly, draping more of his body over the Russian.

“Are your hands cold?” Chekov (Pasha) asked. “You could put zhem een here.” He unsealed his own coat and took hold of McCoy’s hands, pulling them inside. Then Pasha tucked the emergency blankets around and under them, sealing in their warmth. </p><p>Slowly Pasha’s shivering stopped and the body underneath McCoy's relaxed.</p><p>McCoy sighed, and his breath ruffled sandy curls. Very carefully, he bent his head so he could feel those curls tickle his face. They smelled so good, those pretty curls. It was almost comfortable on the hard, cold floor with Pasha in his arms. Almost. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The McCoy/ Kirk relationship is an interesting one. Like they could have been happily married if they’d met at a different time in their lives. Or had different formative experiences. But they still formed a deep lifelong bond — with healthy and unhealthy patterns. Adding Spock to the dynamic... McCoy’s ex cheated on him so Kirk’s friendship with Spock has to feel threatening. </p><p>I always thought Spock and Chekov would have more in common than you’d expect and they’d each benefit from a friendship with each other.</p><p>Hello Wintermelon! Thank you for your comments. I’m so happy that you and I are in this together.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Trapped!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>DAY THREE</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>It was hot, muggy, the air thick and oppressive. It was too hot to sleep inside, so Leonard had dragged the air mattress out to Grampa’s screened porch, the night breezes and the old black rotating fan in the corner sweeping across his sweaty skin. On the porch, the first rays of sunrise would open his eyes to the beautiful gray light of morning.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Alonzo slept over that night, both of them stripped down to their Y-fronts and spread eagled on top of the air mattress. The Mourning Doves sang, and the gray light dawned, and Leonard opened his eyes. He saw a tent in Alonzo’s briefs.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Leonard had woken with morning wood often enough — and he knew from school that it was normal — but he’d never seen another boy’s. It made his harder, more urgent. It made him want to touch Alonzo despite the thick, clinging heat.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>His hand on Alonzo’s thin shoulder, his rangy arm, feeling the other boy’s skin beneath his fingertips — it was wonderful. And when Alonzo’s hands began moving over his skin, Leonard almost burst. They came together, two skinny boys, and pressed their bodies against one another. Leonard slotted his thigh between Alonzo’s legs and felt his friend’s excitement as he began to ride. He felt his own skyrocketing joy as Alonzo’s hip rubbed against Leonard’s prick, his joy when Alonzo pulled him closer to make the friction unbearably perfect. They held each other tightly, each taking their pleasure from the other until Leonard came, shooting inside his underwear. Alonzo followed seconds later, arching and grunting, the sweaty glow on his young face so beautiful.</i>
</p><p><i>Birdsong. Beautiful... and alien. Nothing at all like Mourning Doves.</i> McCoy yawned. If he remembered correctly, it wasn’t actually a bird at all, but one of Omicron’s small, woodland mammals that sang. A Wole? There was a soft rhythmic drumming accompanying the song that reminded McCoy of a completely different sort of morning.</p><p>McCoy opened his eyes. The dream about Alonzo, about his first time with someone (someone he loved) had been so vivid! But he wasn’t a skinny twelve-year-old anymore. He was almost forty, he could damn well act like it. </p><p>
  <i>It didn’t help that Alonzo reminded Leonard of Jim... reminded him of things he didn’t want to think about...</i>
</p><p>McCoy shifted back, easing his morning wood away from Pasha — from <i>Lieutenant Chekov</i>. </p><p>(His colleague. His patient.) (His friend.)</p><p>He needed to be careful. It was much too easy to like Pasha (Chekov), with his sweetness and liveliness and surprisingly astute observations. Especially now, when survival demanded that they depend wholly on each other. This intense bond forming between them — it was false. Or rather <i>situational</i>. It would fade quickly enough once they were back on the Enterprise.</p><p>If they made it back.</p><p>McCoy’s problem was he always fell too hard, too completely, with the wrong person. Or maybe there wasn’t a right person to fall for like that. Maybe that was just something in holos and books. Fairytale love. Not real.</p><p>It had never been real for him. Alonzo had had a girlfriend within a month of kissing him passionately in the hay rick in September. Leonard had felt like a fool for believing he’d wait until the next summer when he’d be back at Grampa’s farm. After Alonzo, there had been Julia and Q’ell, Marilyn, Todd, Ellen, and then Jocelyn. </p><p>Jocelyn. </p><p>For a few years, Leonard thought he’d found the right one, the one that fell as hard for him as he did for her.</p><p>Jocelyn had cured him of his romantic notions for good. Leonard knew now that his inability to have a casual relationship, was a weakness. Something to hide behind bad-temper and gruffness. It was much better to simply drive off all potential interest than to open himself up to the pain and betrayal and the cognizance that he’d been monumentally stupid. Again. </p><p>Especially now that he knew better!</p><p>But dammit, he liked it when the kid called him ‘Leo!’ He liked it way too much! He’d have to work out a way to nip it in the bud</p><p>McCoy dozed, listening to the rain on the roof, to the melodious chirping. It was beautiful. Objectively, Omicron was beautiful with its moons perched in its verdant sky, its indigo forests with its lavender, violet and purple groves, its blue grass and cerulean fields of grain, its blooming flowers and clear lakes. Even the ubiquitous gray-blue pod structures had a majesty. </p><p>In so many ways it reminded him of the farm. Maybe it was the way it smelled — of growth and life. If Omicron had been hot, if the buzz of cicadas had filled the air, it would have felt like McCoy’s home. Right about now, he’d be looking for the early gray light of morning.</p><p>
  <i>The sheets were damp beneath him, but the morning was cool, only seventy-five degrees Fahrenheit (Gramps always used Fahrenheit no matter what anyone said). Leonard looked up at Alonzo with wonder as the other boy’s lips touched his. It made his entire body tingle and burn! He pulled Alonzo closer, not caring about the muggy heaviness in the air or how it made little beads of sweat break out on his brow. All he wanted was more of Alonzo’s lips, more of his mouth, his touches...</i>
</p><p>The not-birdsong was louder now. What would it feel like to pet Pasha’s soft curls? To lean over and feel Pasha’s cheek under his lips? To pull the boy onto his back and kiss him and kiss him... would he pull McCoy closer?</p><p>More likely he’d awkwardly back away and apologize, explaining that he didn’t think about McCoy that way. And why would he? McCoy was old enough to be his father.</p><p>“You are avake, Leo?”</p><p>“What? Yeah.”</p><p>“I can feel you zhinking.” Pasha (Chekov) pulled McCoy’s hands more tightly around him. “Vhat are you zhinking about?”</p><p>“Oh... er...Mourning Doves. Do you have Mourning Doves in Russia?”</p><p>“I do not zhink so.”</p><p>“They sing at sunrise in Georgia. I heard them every morning when I woke up for years. Their song… they call them Mourning Doves because they sound mournful, sad, not because they sing in the morning.”</p><p>Pasha rolled over to face Leonard in the dark. His fingertips brushed Leonard’s jaw. “You are sad this morning.”</p><p>“Not sad.” Leonard told him. He wasn’t — a bit melancholy maybe, but Pasha didn’t need to know what a failure his life had been. He shook himself mentally and spoke with more confidence. “Just not so happy about the rain. But I’m ready to get off this rock. We’re going to find the comms today and call the Enterprise.” He had to figure out how they could avoid getting wet, chilled and hypothermic walking into Carson — <i>they were going to hail the ship</i>!</p><p>“Da, ve vill, Leo!”</p><p>Chekov was almost cheerful as they roused themselves and prepared for the day. McCoy found the threads of his melancholy slipping away under Pasha’s bright eyes and optimistic smiles — even as he cursed himself for not having the forethought to put caffeine in the high calorie mini-bars he’d synthesized at harbor house. </p><p>He raided the stash of painkillers in the first aid kit to stave off the headache he could feel building. Yet another reason to regret not having his own med kit — he could have concocted something attuned to his body chemistry from what he always carried in the tricorder. The generic hypo took the pain but left him feeling wired and restless. Better than logy, McCoy supposed. </p><p>He was more than ready to leave the claustrophobic confines of the treehouse. In the short time since he’d opened their cocoon and they’d started to prepare for the day, McCoy had begun to shiver. His hands ached from the cold as he packed up the rucksack and broke a meal replacement bar in half for them to share for breakfast.</p><p>Even in the rain, getting out and moving would feel good. Maybe he could do something with the tarp to keep them dry... </p><p>Chekov (Pasha) coughed, the cold exacerbating the irritation in his lungs. McCoy had the medical scanner out in seconds, despite the exasperation on the young Russian’s face. McCoy searched through the hypos in the medical kit for something he hadn’t found the last five times he’d looked. </p><p>“I am fine, Leo.” Pasha insisted. “Let’s get going. Comms today.”</p><p>“Comms today!” McCoy echoed, stowing the scanner. The thought lifted his shivering spirits and he even managed a bit of a smile as he folded the tarp into a shape they could hold over their heads.</p><p>However, when McCoy opened a corner of the pod material over the door and looked out, an unwelcome sight greeted him. The infected were <i>everywhere</i>, not just under the many trees, but on the walkways, dotted among the flowers and grasses, between the curvilinear pod homes, and standing along the shore of the decorative lake. The rain washed their blood into the crystal-clear water like a red stain.</p><p>The sky was overcast, black rain clouds stretching to the horizon. It made for a dim, dusky green twilight, with a thick gray haze of rain. It was not light enough to drive the infected into hiding.</p><p>At the snap of the pod material opening, dozens of bloody, black eyes turned to stare at Leonard. As if of one mind, all the infected made their jerky way to the base of the tree, trodding over blooms and grass until they surrounded it, twenty deep.</p><p>McCoy swore, securing the flap. Automatically he grabbed the phaser.</p><p>“Vhat ees eet?” Chekov asked, his concern increasing as he studied McCoy.</p><p>“Look out the window.” McCoy said. “Quietly as you can.”</p><p>Chekov’s (Pasha’s) face twisted in worry that McCoy would give anything to erase. Pasha opened the window flap and looked out for long seconds. When he closed it, McCoy could see him struggling to remain positive.</p><p>He turned his face away — there was nothing McCoy could do to cheer the kid. He busied himself with the phaser. Before putting it away, he checked the charge. McCoy swore under his breath.</p><p>“Vhat ees eet now?”</p><p>McCoy handed him the phaser. They had one, maybe two shots left. Chekov sighed and handed it back grimly.</p><p>A new noise started. It was rhythmic like the rain, and just loud enough to be heard over it. And like the rain, they could <i>feel</i> the sound very faintly vibrating at the edge of their consciousness. “Vhat eez zhat?” Chekov whispered.</p><p>“I don’t know.” McCoy said. He thought about the broken-down doors in Settlement City, about the striations on the shriveling pieces…he’d thought they were knife cuts… “It... it could be them clawing at the tree.”</p><p>The worry on Pasha’s handsome face turned to fear. “Zhat ees not good.”</p><p>“It’s a big tree.” McCoy reassured him. “Wide. They’re not going to claw through it.”</p><p>Pasha (Chekov) didn’t answer. He looked around the confines of the treehouse illuminated by the soft glow of the camp light — at the tarp and their packs, the long gun and the axe, at McCoy huddling in his coat and hat looking frozen through — and his face fell. “Ve are stuck up here today.”</p><p><i>Trapped</i>. That was the correct term, they were <i>trapped</i> in this treehouse on this nightmare planet until daylight returned. <i>Dammit! They were supposed to be back on the Enterprise for lunch</i>!</p><p>McCoy felt like banging his head on the floor. It was <i>so frustrating</i>! This stupid planet! How had this happened!? How had he ended up <i>trapped</i> in a goddamned frozen treehouse!? He should be in his Medbay right now, ditching his paperwork to complain to Chapel about Jim’s complete disregard of his care and advice, medical and otherwise. </p><p>Or maybe he’d be on the bridge next to Jim’s chair, needling the Captain about his latest folly and enjoying the shit out of himself — until that green-blooded busybody stuck his nose in. Even then he could sometimes score a few points and that just made his whole damn day brighter.</p><p>And Chekov... he could check out Chekov on the sly, admire his slim form and sandy curls. And the kid always found an excuse to turn and smile at him. It made Leonard a little giddy...</p><p>That’s where Chekov should be! On the bridge with Sulu and Spock and Uhura, the whole A-team, doing what they did best. Not trapped in a freezing cold child’s playhouse with a lecherous old doctor!</p><p>Dammit! They had to get to those comms!</p><p>“It’ll clear up this afternoon.” McCoy tried to convince himself. “And we can get out of here then.”</p><p>“You zhink so?” </p><p>McCoy had no idea but he <i>wanted</i> it with every fiber of his being. “Yeah.”</p><p>But it didn’t. McCoy and Chekov spent the entire day sitting in the blasted treehouse. McCoy was so cold he worried about hypothermia. He checked their body temperatures with the scanner every half hour. </p><p>Finally, miserably huddled together in the cocoon of the tarp, the younger man said, “Leo, tell me a story.”</p><p>“About what?”</p><p>He could feel Pasha shifting uncomfortably in his arms — the kid was leaning back against McCoy’s chest so the Doctor could feel every wracking cough reverberate through his torso. “Tell me about Jo.”</p><p>“My daughter?” McCoy’s knee jerk was to protest and refuse — but talking was a good idea. They had to while away the hours somehow. McCoy was going crazy.</p><p>“I’m not sure what to tell you. Jo is...” McCoy found himself smiling. “So sharp. She’s been making holos lately — I sent her one of those little holo handhelds that Scotty was fooling around with last year.” McCoy laughed. “Three months later, she sends back a Martian war drama with lots of explosions and blood — she animated it herself! The main character has to relive the same battle, over and over, but from the point-of-view of a different person every time.” He chuckled. “Plot’s a bit hard to follow, but she’s working it out. Says she wants to do a sort of courtroom thing next, set in a world populated entirely by cybernauts.”</p><p>Pasha made an impressed sound. “How old ees she?”</p><p>“She’s twelve now — she was just five when I left for Starfleet Academy.” McCoy felt the familiar guilt and anger beating low in his ribcage. “It was rough, leaving her in Georgia. Trying to see her... my ex... we don’t get along. She tried to get my visitation pulled saying that by moving to San Francisco I’d abandoned Jo. I had to go back to court, fight it all over again. Honestly, if I hadn’t had Jim keeping me from taking a long walk off a short pier, I don’t know what I would have done.</p><p>“Anyway...” McCoy batted away years of heartbreak, regret, shame, loss, and aimless, useless fury, tucking it in its familiar compartment until he was alone with a bottle of bourbon, as was his wont. “It’s been a challenge, trying to be her Dad — trying to be present in her life — when I’m not there with her. When I was on Earth, I could usually visit a couple times a week. And once Jocelyn finally accepted that she couldn’t keep Jo away from me, I’d take her to San Francisco for weekends. It’s been more of a challenge from the Enterprise. But Starfleet is good about family — you probably know from Sulu and his little girl — they make it a priority to keep Jo and me in touch. They would fly her out to space stations where we’re stopping for a while, but Jos won’t sign off on it.” McCoy sighed at his ex-wife’s seemingly bottomless appetite to hurt him. “Two more years and Jo’ll be old enough to make the decision for herself.</p><p>“I can’t wait! She’s growing up so fast! We talk three times a week, and she seems to change every time I see her… damn…” McCoy’s excitement faded. “I was supposed to talk to her last night. I wonder what they told her.” He hoped that the Captain was there to talk to her — Jo loved her Uncle Jim. And he wouldn’t worry her about his disappearance, not yet, but he’d lay a groundwork just in case. McCoy could write the script: “<i>Your Dad’s just on an away mission, helping a planet with a pandemic</i>.” It had the virtue of being true. And if McCoy never came back, they’d tell his little girl that he’d died trying to help people.</p><p>“You vill talk to her again, Leo.” Pasha (Chekov) said softly.</p><p>“I know. We’re going to get to those comms tomorrow.” McCoy <i>needed</i> it to be true. </p><p>“Ve vill.”</p><p>They were quiet for a while. McCoy listened to the sound of claws on the tree trunk. He really hoped that he was right, that they couldn’t claw enough of the wood away to bring the tree down before the sun came out.</p><p>Why was this blasted planet so damn cold!?</p><p>What he wouldn’t give for a coat that kept him warm! And a sleeping bag rated for this weather. McCoy fumbled the med scanner out of his pocket and took readings from both himself and Chekov. His body temperature had dipped.</p><p>“I have to get up and move around some.” McCoy announced. He didn’t like to do it — it was colder outside of the cocoon and even the soft noises of them moving around a bit (as well as they could in a small space in which they could not stand up) inflamed the infected below, causing a chorus of teeth snapping and redoubled clawing on the tree.</p><p>McCoy — and Chekov joined him after the first few —did several sets of pushups and crunches, challenging himself with one-handed and leg-lifted versions even though his sore muscles complained. He kept it up until his arms gave out and heat buzzed through his core. They crawled back into the cocoon and McCoy unsealed his coat and held out his arms for Pasha to settle against him once again.</p><p>“Better?” Chekov (Pasha) asked.</p><p>“A little.” McCoy busied himself arranging the emergency blankets over them. He shivered a little as Pasha took his hands and pulled them into his coat pockets. </p><p>McCoy knew what would really help — <i>fucking would keep them both warm!</i> McCoy would have no problem getting it up for Pasha... he’d imagined it once or twice — late at night when he was half asleep, fantasies of Pasha riding his cock had played out in his head... he’d come so hard!</p><p>Jesus! He couldn’t think about that right now! Not with the kid pressed against him like this! Not ever! </p><p>“It’s your turn to tell me a story.” McCoy blurted, desperate for a distraction. “Your choice.”</p><p>“Ok.” Pasha said. “Zhough, I zhink any interesting story I have, ees from zhe Enterprize, so you know eet already.”</p><p>“Tell me somethin’ from the Academy then.” McCoy drawled. “You must have had a singular experience.”</p><p>Chekov scoffed. “Da. Singular.” He paused, trying to organize his thoughts into something linear. “I have newer tried to explain zhis… eet might not be wery interesting.”</p><p>“Compared to sittin’ in the dark, slowly freezing to death?” McCoy asked. “It’ll be <i>fascinating</i>.”</p><p>“Ass!” Pasha elbowed him lightly. “Ok. I vas halfvay zhrough my doctorate een Zheoretical Physics… vhen I realized zhat no one takes a zhirtteen-year-old physicist seriously. Een Moscow at my University, I vas sheltered. I didn’t blame zhe ozher students for not having much to do vith me — zhey vere all so much older. But my professors, I zhought zhey treated me vith respect. </p><p>“A paper I wrote attracted some attention and I vas inwited to present eet at a conference een Stockholm. I was wery excited! But because my Standard vas so poor, eet vas agreed zhat one of my professors vould do zhe presentation and I vould be zhere to answer questions. </p><p>“My professor must have zhought zhat I did not understand as much Standard as I did. She offered to be my translator as vell as my presenter — and I zhink you can see vhere zhis ees going.”</p><p>“She took the credit for your work.” McCoy said, wanting Pasha to sound angrier than he did. </p><p>“Not exactly… she eemplied zhat I had done less zhan I had, zhat I had lots of help… eet vas humiliating… and zhe conference! Eet vas eweryzhing zhe uniwersity vas not — bright, stimulating… alive… I could not stand to go back.</p><p>“Starfleet sent zhe first recruiter to my home vhen I vas eight. I vas already fascinated by zhe stars, already studying astrogation. I liked zhe recruiter — zhey listened to me talk about a project I vas vorking on for a wery long time. No one listened to me zhat long.” Pasha laughed. “But zhere vere ozher recruiters and my parents zhought Moscow vas better because eet vas closer and because ve all spoke zhe language.</p><p>“Starfleet sent a second recruiter to zhe University. But I vas busy finishing a mathematics degree and didn’t have much time for him. Zhe zhird recruiter showed up two days after I left zhe University — I hadn’t ewen officially vithdrawn! She inwited me to come tour Starfleet Academy, sit een on some classes… and I newer left.”</p><p>“You liked it that much, huh?”</p><p>“I liked how vell-rounded eet vas. I would not sit eendoors all day vorking on research. I had to take practical courses — I had to learn how to fix an engine! I had newer touched an engine before! I had to learn how to fly and to fight and shoot. I vas a pudgy little boy who had just spent almost four years een classrooms and laboratories. Zhe Academy vas eweryzhing I’d vanted!”</p><p>“Sounds like a dream come true.” McCoy remarked blandly.</p><p>Chekov scoffed. “Eet vas not perfect. I vas still <i>years</i> younger zhan zhe ozher students. Still zhe ‘mascot.’ Eet vas eempossible to have a real social life — my social life vas my study group. Ve would meet in zhe library and sometimes get coffee before class. But zhat vas eet. I newer vent to parties or on dates. </p><p>“Zhat vas vhen I started running. Running ees good for many zhings — eet ees good for fitness, for zhinking, for taking up time…</p><p>“But mostly zhe Academy vas good. I vas not zhe only smart person anymore! Ewerybody at zhe Academy vas special for one reason or anozher. I used to like to vork out vhat eet vas zhat made zhem Starfleet material. Sometimes eet vas obvious. But sometimes eet took time to figure eet out.”</p><p>McCoy harrumphed. “You ever figure out why Starfleet wanted me?”</p><p>“You are one of zhe obvious ones. A doctor vith your experience and qualifications? Vith your talent vith xenomedicine? How many recruiters did zhey send to you?”</p><p>“One. I threw him out and threatened to shoot the next one.” McCoy winced. “Guess I coulda been more polite. I’d just pulled a double overnight shift and hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours.”</p><p>“Vhy <i>did</i> you join Starfleet, Leo? Eet’s easy to see vhy zhey vant you, but vith your daughter and your dislike of flying, eet has alvays seemed like an odd choice.”</p><p>McCoy chuckled bitterly. “Your last choice starts looking pretty good when it’s the only one you got left.”</p><p>“Vhat does zhat mean?”</p><p>McCoy hesitated. He hadn’t talked about this since he’d told Jim their first year at the Academy when he had to go back to court with Jocelyn. But what the hell. They had to pass the time somehow. And he had to take his mind off of how damn cold he was — Jocelyn always got his blood boiling. McCoy considered the young man pressed against him. “Assuming we get off this rock, don’t go blabbin’ this all over the ship. It’s nobody’s business but mine.”</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>“You’re gonna be sorry... last time I started talking about this I didn’t stop for hours.” McCoy warned. “You’re gonna want to chew your own leg off to escape.”</p><p>“Compared to sitting here een zhe dark, slowly freezing to death?” Pasha giggled. “I vill risk eet.”</p><p>“I hate you.”</p><p>Pasha just laughed. “Now I am doubly curious vhy zhe famously aviophobic Doktor McCoy joined Starfleet.”</p><p> “Fine , you asked for it, Pasha. I’ll give you the long version.” McCoy told him. “Nineteen years ago —“</p><p>“Nineteen!” Pasha giggled.</p><p>“Nineteen years ago...” McCoy talked over him. “I was in college — Ole Miss, where my Mom and Dad met — and I met a girl. Jocelyn. We were both in pre-med, and I liked her because she was so smart and clever. She was always the first to catch on to a new concept, the first to answer a riddle, the first to finish the test, the first to see the holes in a story and ask the right questions. She always knew when to be skeptical. She should have been a prosecutor. Jos would have been an outstanding prosecutor.</p><p>“She was <i>stunning</i>. A star! And I couldn’t believe she chose me.”</p><p>“We got married in medical school and Jo was born while we were doing our residencies... that was rough. It put Jos back a few months. I took a six-month internship in xenomedicine while she finished her residency — mostly because it was near where she was working... but also because I’d always been interested in it.</p><p>“When my internship ended, I turned down a couple… I guess you’d call them ‘prestigious’ offers from different hospitals looking for xenomedical specialists and we went back to Georgia and took over my family’s practice. That was our plan from the start. I also worked at Emory Hospital in Atlanta and did a little consulting.</p><p>“Jocelyn is a good general practitioner. She took over the bulk of my Dad’s patients at our practice — they all loved her. It was probably a mistake on my part, letting her take over, but I was busy at Emory and honestly I could have spent all my time consulting... and she wanted more responsibility…</p><p>McCoy sighed deeply. “When our marriage started to fall apart, I had no idea that professional jealousy was part of it. I’d fallen for her because she was so amazing — and I couldn’t believe she picked me because I wasn’t anything special. I don’t think she expected me to excel at anything. She was supposed to be the star.” McCoy sighed again. Shave a few points off his I.Q. and he might still be happily married to that star.</p><p>“All I knew then was that we were arguing all the time. I couldn’t seem to do anything right. I would bend over backwards to please her, tie myself in knots… but it was never good enough. She wanted me to spend more time with her and Jo, and I couldn’t fault her for that. Sometimes I only saw Jo for five minutes as I ran out the door in the morning.</p><p>“I stopped consulting. I cut back my hours at Emory. I spent more time with Jo — which was great. But when I came into our practice, I was ‘underfoot.’ When I was home more, she went out. Said it was ‘my turn’ to stay with Jo while she went out with her friends. It didn’t matter that I’d been <i>working</i> when I got home late.</p><p>“Then I found out she was cheating.” McCoy paused and took a deep breath. The betrayal and despair he’d felt still clung to the words. “I admit, I’ve got a temper. I took Jo to my Dad’s because I knew I was gonna lose it. When she got home that night, we had the worst fight we’d ever had. We woke up the neighbors, and I said some things I shouldn’t have, some things I regret. And I said ‘em loudly enough that the whole neighborhood could hear.</p><p>“It never occurred to me that Jocelyn had been planning for the divorce before that night, not until I finally talked to a divorce lawyer a couple months later. By then, Jos had an order of protection out against me. I had one of those location monitors the cops use locked to my wrist so I couldn’t get near her or Jo. She cried crocodile tears to anyone who would listen. She ruined my reputation in my hometown.</p><p>“It took me an embarrassingly long time to get a divorce lawyer — I should have done it right away... I don’t know what I was thinking... that we could be reasonable adults?” McCoy laughed bitterly. “But the lawyer was worth every penny. She got me supervised visits with Jo. And that went so well that the supervising social worker recommended <i>me</i> for custody! But Jocelyn was thorough. She took everything else. She got my family’s practice. McCoys had it for generations, but she showed that I’d pretty much turned it over to her already. She got the house, all of our assets, and the good opinion of the town I grew up in.</p><p>“The only thing she didn’t win was full custody of our daughter.</p><p>“And then she got me fired from Emory. I discovered later that she slept with the General Counsel for the hospital, and he was very proactive in advising the hospital to drop me. He wanted to do it ‘for cause,’ but they couldn’t because my record was spotless, and the other doctors spoke up for me. So he got them to cut me loose by playing up the order of protection, insinuating I’d done terrible things, and saying the location monitoring bracelet ‘sent the wrong message’ to patients. At least they had to pay out my contract — and thank God because I had no idea how I was going to pay my divorce lawyer.</p><p>“After the divorce, I was dead broke. I was drinking too much — I’m sure you’re shocked to hear that — sleeping in my Dad’s spare room. I was only keeping it together as much as I was for Jo. I’d tried contacting the hospitals I’d consulted for, but they weren’t interested. I went through all my contacts. No one was interested. </p><p>“Around then my Dad stopped by the house, her house, to pick up my things — the things she didn’t want, I guess. He came back with a couple bags of clothes and… stuff. Garbage really. I dumped it all out in the spare room… and found the little recruitment holo the Starfleet guy had left. I had nothin’ else. I figured if Starfleet still wanted me, they could have me.”</p><p>McCoy scoffed. “So now you know why I’m in Starfleet despite the never ending threat of horrible death, why I drink too much, why I sleep alone, why I’m grouchy on the days I don’t get to talk to my daughter, and why I’m an all-around bastard most of the time.” </p><p>“Jocelyn better hope zhat she newer meets me.” Chekov said hotly.</p><p>McCoy laughed, honestly amused. “Jim said the same thing. What would you do to her? Give her dirty looks? There are far better things to do with your time than waste it on my ex-wife.</p><p>“Besides, if you’re ever in Georgia, you’ll be too busy learning to ride a horse to bother with Jocelyn.”</p><p>McCoy savored Pasha’s smile.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>They’re getting to know each other better — McCoy’s actually talking about himself, something he normally would never do. But it’s the easiest way to distract himself from the cold, monster-filled planet.</p><p>Thoughts so far?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Carson</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Day Four: morning</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>Jim touched his hand, caressing his knuckles, and this time Leonard didn’t reach for the bourbon and put it in Jim’s hand instead. This time he let Jim’s fingers travel to his wrist, up his arm, across his suddenly naked shoulder to his neck. He let the goose bumps break out on his skin, let himself shiver under his friend’s touch. Jim wanted to kiss him the question was in his eyes. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Leonard had never felt so loved. Why had he pushed Jim away for so long? Leonard had been foolish... but that was all over now. Now it was only the two of them raising Jo together.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Leonard had never suspected how wonderful Jim Kirk’s lips would feel on his skin... he pulled him closer... he was coughing...</i>
</p><p>Jim... no, it was Chekov... Pasha... coughing in his sleep. Leonard shook off the dream — he didn’t like when his subconscious took him places he’d firmly decided not to go... but the feeling of being <i>so treasured</i> lingered... he’d never had that. </p><p>And he never would. As wonderful as it felt, it was a dream, it wasn’t real. </p><p>Pasha coughed again. Leonard was stranded on Omicron with Pasha Chekov... he was worried about the kid...</p><p>
  <i>He’d worked a double shift in the Medbay and he was exhausted. Leonard skipped the mess hall and went straight to his quarters. As Chief Medical Officer, they were bigger than most, with separate living and sleeping areas and a private bathroom. But he still felt a sense of dread as the door opened — they were not big enough. They’d fought about it non-stop. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Leonard stripped off and threw his clothes in the recycler then went into the bedroom. He was relieved to see that she was sleeping, her slight form outlined by the blankets. Leonard climbed in next to her. “You’re late again.” She mumbled. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>He sighed. Not asleed after all. “An emergency came in at the end of my shift.” He said defensively. “Had to stay.” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Len... you promised you’d call if you had stay late again. You just left me hanging.” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Didn’t Chapel send a message? I asked her to.” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“You said that YOU would call.” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“What difference does it make? I had my hands full, Jos.” That was true. And he hadn’t wanted to. Jocelyn would have argued with him over the comm.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Isn’t that why you have doctors that work FOR you — so you can delegate some of this stuff?” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“I did.” Leonard said knowing it would infuriate her but unable to stop himself. “I delegated calling you to Chapel.” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Good to know how important I am to you.”  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Leonard stopped himself from agreeing sarcastically that she wasn’t important at all. It wasn’t true and it wouldn’t help. “Come on, Jos...” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“And you’ve been drinking. Did you think I wouldn’t smell it? Was that your ‘emergency’? Drinking with Jim again?!” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Leonard sighed. “I needed to unwind after the surgery.” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“And you couldn’t do that here!?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Here? Where you make it so damn pleasant!?” He asked, knowing he shouldn’t escalate, but sick to death of tiptoeing around her. “Jos, I drink in my office because I DREAD coming back here just to fight with you.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>She feigned hurt —Leonard used to believe it, used to feel like a monster for upsetting her so much. But now he knew it was just another tactic she used to get her way. He turned away from her, curling up, wishing he could put his head under the pillow. He prayed she’d let him alone now, just go to sleep. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>But she didn’t, she kept barking at him, her body materializing under his arm...</i>
</p><p>It wasn’t Jocelyn! It was Pavel Chekov! Leonard’s relief was <i>profound</i>! Honestly, he’d almost rather be in a damn treehouse freezing his tits off in an apocalyptic pandemic than anywhere near his ex-wife. “Thank God!” He mumbled. “Thank God!”</p><p>Pasha’s cough wasn’t good. Leonard wasn’t used to being so helpless. What he wouldn’t give for his medical tricorder!</p><p>
  <i>Leonard was back in medical school… that was novel. Was it a do-over or was he back to learn some new techniques? He wandered the woven walkways looking for where he was supposed to report in — he’d get his class schedule there and meet his study group. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>None of the buildings were familiar. He scanned through the Welcome materials on his PaDD for a campus map. But he couldn’t find one. He wandered until he realized he was late — very late! Leonard walked through the blue grass, down empty corridors, through abandoned laboratories and homes… </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Leonard ran into Dave MacMallon — Dave from High School that he’d sat next to in homeroom and assembly for six years because their names were next to each other in the alphabet. There was no other reason that he and Dave would have been friends. They had little in common, ran with different crowds… </i>
</p><p>
  <i>That’s when he remembered he’d slept with Dave. That didn’t seem right… why did he do that? </i>
</p><p>McCoy woke early from a fitful sleep. An entire day wasted. An entire day spent sedentary in the bitter cold. An entire day and night listening to Pasha’s cough worsen.</p><p>His mouth tasted foul. They had shared the spaghetti and meatballs MRE before going to sleep the night before, and the garlic was repeating. Even the tooth cleaning lozenges hadn’t eradicated it entirely.</p><p>But! McCoy no longer heard the rain! Nor did he hear the clawing at the tree trunk! Relief rolled over him — they could get out of this damn box!</p><p>Trying not to disturb his still-sleeping companion, McCoy wriggled out of the cocoon. The pod material over the door and window were glowing dully with the sunlight. He pulled back a corner of the door flap and looked around. No infected in sight!</p><p>They should get going as soon as possible!</p><p>McCoy refastened the door flap and found Pasha sitting up, blinking at him sleepily.</p><p>“Sun.” He said. “We can get out of here.”</p><p>“Zhen let’s go!” They grinned at each other and began packing up their gear. McCoy filled his own rucksack with the heaviest items, tucking several lighter weight things in the outer pockets of the water bladder. The water was the heaviest single thing they carried, it was only right they apportion the weight between them fairly. It had nothing to do with Pasha’s cough.

</p><p>He broke up a protein bar for their breakfast (giving Chekov the larger portion) and filled the water bottle from the bladder.</p><p>“How are you feeling?” McCoy asked Pasha. “You were coughing overnight.”</p><p>“Did I vake you! I’m sorry, I should sleep farther avay...”</p><p>“Don’t be an idiot. I don’t care about that. I’m worried about your lungs.” McCoy said. He held up the scanner with a pointed look. Though he rolled his eyes, Chekov submitted to the scanner and answered all of McCoy’s questions.</p><p>“Now put zhe Doktor avay.” Pasha said as McCoy tucked the scanner into his rucksack. </p><p>“I am a doctor.” McCoy snapped. </p><p>“Eet ees a long valk.” Chekov said without rancor. “Bring Leo back. He ees more fun.”</p><p>“That’s what I’m here for.” McCoy grumbled. “Fun.” But he set his professional mindset aside, if not his worry about Pasha’s health.</p><p>-- </p><p>There was not an infected in sight as they descended from the treehouse in the bright morning sunlight. But the claw marks on the trunk were troubling. The navy bark was scraped off all around the trunk, revealing deep scoring in the aqua wood. They had gone at it without strategy, simply scratching dumbly at the trunk, or McCoy thought they could have brought the tree down.</p><p>Chekov’s (Pasha’s) eyes were round as they studied the tree trunk, but he didn’t say anything and neither did McCoy. They knew too well the danger they were in.</p><p>
  <i>They were going to find the comms in Carson today, call the Enterprise, then find some unbroken sunlight to wait for the shuttle to come collect them. And this nightmare would be over. </i>
</p><p>Oh, there would be rigorous quarantine protocols and endless interviews, but McCoy could deal with all that because there would also be heat and showers and beds and regular meals and <i>no one trying to kill him</i>!</p><p>“Leo, do you really zhink ze Keptin and Mister Spock made eet back to zhe ship?” Chekov asked. He’d memorized their route into Carson, to the building he’d identified as being the most likely to have the boosted comms, then turned the PaDD off to save its dwindling charge.</p><p>“Yes.” McCoy said without reservation. “Jim’s the luckiest sonufabitch I ever met. He probably stumbled on the only safe place left on the planet. In fact, I bet he ran right into an improbably beautiful woman who led him straight to sanctuary.”</p><p>Chekov laughed. “Be serious.”</p><p>“Oh, I am.” McCoy insisted. “You have no idea.”</p><p>“You are close friends vith zhe Keptin.”</p><p>“Usually.” McCoy grumbled.</p><p>“You vere roommates at zhe academy.”</p><p>“Yup.” McCoy regarded the younger man who was studiously not looking at him. “Why the twenty questions?”</p><p>“I am curious.” Chekov admitted. “No one else talks to zhe Keptin zhe vay you do. Not ewen Mister Spock.”</p><p>McCoy guffawed. “Spock has a stick wedged too far up his ass to relax and have a normal conversation.” </p><p>“Stick een his ass?” Chekov asked slyly. “Ee zhat a medical diagnosis?”</p><p>“Might as well be.” The Doctor looked sideways at Pasha. “You probably have a different view of Spock — you’re one of the only people on the ship he doesn’t have to talk down to.”</p><p>Chekov nodded. “About some zhings, zhat ees true. I would say eet ees not so much a stick in his ass as his upbringing did not give him zhe tools to live among Humans. He ees, I zhink, bevildered by us.”</p><p>“Bewildered? Spock?” McCoy’s first impulse was to laugh, but he swallowed it. “He made an interesting choice, then, joining Starfleet.”</p><p>“I expect he intended to go to zhe Wulcan Science Academy.” Chekov said.</p><p>“Don’t tell me he didn’t get in.” McCoy snickered.</p><p>“I vould be wery surprised eef he didn’t. I tried to look eet up, but zhe records are not awailable.” Chekov told him. “No, zhat eesn’t exactly right. <i>Spock’s</i> records are not awailable. Zhe Wulcans have erased zhem.”</p><p>“Wait.” McCoy said, his eyebrows disappearing into his hairline. “Are you telling me that Spock — our Spock — was involved in some kind of… <i>Vulcan scandal</i>?!”</p><p>“No… I’m saying eet’s possible…”</p><p>“What does that even look like?” McCoy wondered aloud. “I’m guessing he wasn’t caught smoking behind the school or swiping candy bars from the corner store. What did he do? Answer back at the dinner table? Wear the wrong robe? Crack a smile?” The doctor scoffed. “What am I saying, Spock doesn’t smile.”</p><p>Chekov was giggling and looking guilty about it. “I vill say zhis — eet eesn’t zhat he eesn’t smart enough or disciplined enough. I’ve vorked vith Wulcans from zhe Science Academy zhat cannot touch Spock. Even among Wulcans, he ees exceptional.”</p><p>“Well, <i>that</i> won’t swell his head any.” McCoy grouched. “It’s probably…” He frowned, certain that he was correct and not liking it one bit. “It’s probably that he’s mixed, that he’s half-human.” </p><p>It was one thing a Vulcan not to like humans much. The culture clash must be acute, coming from an austere, logic-driven society to a hobo circus like Earth. It was something else entirely to reject one of their own because he was <i>tainted</i> by human blood. McCoy had worked with a number of Vulcans both before and during his time in Starfleet, and Spock was not notably different than any of them. If anything, he was <i>more</i> uptight. </p><p>Well, McCoy guessed he could understand Spock wanting to prove that he was the <i>most</i> Vulcan of Vulcans. Just McCoy’s luck they were posted on the same ship.</p><p>“Eet ees good for Mister Spock, zhat he ees inwested in a relationship vith someone like zhe Keptin.” Chekov announced.</p><p>McCoy let that sink in for a beat or two. “And when you say <i>relationship</i>?”</p><p>Chekov shot him a mischievous smile. “You vould know better zhan I.”</p><p>“Oh God. No. No, I wouldn’t.”</p><p>“You and zhe Keptin don’t brag about your conquests?” Chekov asked innocently. “Vith improbably beautiful vomen? Or Wulcans?”</p><p>“Pasha, you’re gonna make me ill. No! We don’t.” </p><p>“Vhy not? You are both… attractive… competitive…”</p><p>“First of all, sex is not a competition. Not to me. Even if I did have something to brag about, which I don’t. Second, there’s nothing more boring than listening to Jim go on about his sex life. You have trouble getting to sleep? Ask him about it — it’s just about as interesting as counting sheep.</p><p>“And third, I wanna hear about <i>Spock’s</i> sex life even less than I wanna hear about Jim’s. I had to study Vulcan mating habits to get my Xenomedical certifications, and you know what the textbook says? <i>Nothing</i>. The Vulcans don’t talk about it. I don’t know if that means that they don’t talk about it with <i>humans</i>, or they don’t talk about it at all — honestly, I wouldn’t put it past ‘em. All I can say is I’m very happy not knowing. And Jim’s not gonna ruin that for me.”</p><p>McCoy squinted at Chekov. “Oh… don’t tell me you have a crush on the Captain.”</p><p>“Nyet! No, not zhe Keptin. No.”</p><p>“On Spock then?” McCoy asked sourly.</p><p>Chekov laughed. “No!”</p><p>“Good.” McCoy nodded. “I didn’t think so — I’ve seen you in the rec room with Lieutenant Gooley a few times. And Ensign Smithe.” He’d seen the kid with half a dozen attractive young women, but he wasn’t gonna enumerate them. Pasha didn’t need to know he’d kept track.</p><p>“I have newer seen you vith anyone, Leo.” Chekov replied. “Except zhe Keptin, of course...”</p><p>“Because my private business is private.” McCoy muttered. “Remember not to go runnin’ your trap about it.”</p><p>“I vould newer!” Chekov protested “You can trust me.”</p><p>McCoy really hoped so, now that he’d gone and spilled the beans, told the kid his entire embarrassing sob story. “How long until we get there?”</p><p>“Two or zhree hours.” Chekov said. “Ve are awoiding zhe parks and following zhe tram lines, so eet vill take longer zhan eef we took zhe shortest route to zhe city center.”</p><p>It was eerie in Carson— like Settlement City, it was too quiet and empty, and the evidence of upheaval lay all around. Unlike the capital, the walkways were narrower, the public groves and gardens more plentiful, and despite the cold, there were more bodies here, rotting in the sun. McCoy knew the smell, he’d been around bodies before, But never so many. He hated how it got up in his nose until he couldn’t smell anything else.</p><p>Pasha had an arm over his mouth and nose.</p><p>Turning a corner, they found a pile two meters high of burned bodies. They were in the center of what had been a small plaza. Along the far side of the plaza and extending down the walkway was a four-meter chain link fence with rolls of razor wire lashed to both sides. McCoy sighed — he was surprised they hadn’t seen something like this sooner. </p><p>The fence would have been erected earlier in the epidemic, when the government thought they could stop the virus. They would have tried to isolate everyone who showed symptoms, and when that didn’t work, they would have moved on to killing anyone who showed symptoms and burning the bodies, along with fencing off parts of the city in the hope of keeping the infected from getting to the other side.</p><p>McCoy wondered if the fencing and razor wire was recyclable.</p><p>There were infected people — many still living — trapped in the razor wire. They were cut and bleeding, and still pulling against the wire. There was evidence that some had broken free that way, leaving parts of their bodies behind.</p><p>Pasha’s fit of coughing caught the attention of the closest to them and they redoubled their efforts to walk through the razor wire and the chain link beyond to get to the sound. McCoy was glad they were blind.</p><p>He grabbed Chekov’s shoulder and dragged him down a perpendicular walkway, dodging abandoned phaser rifles, and an empty truck, hoping no other infected came at the sound of the cough. When they were far enough away that he was confident that the infected on the fence would not hear them, McCoy pulled the rucksack from his back and unsealed it. He handed the water bottle to Pasha, hoping it would ease his throat.</p><p>“We have to find another way through.” He said.</p><p>Chekov had the PaDD out and was looking at their options. He pointed out a route that took them closer to one of the ubiquitous natural spaces than they wanted, but one that would hopefully skirt the fence. </p><p>McCoy handed him one of the blue pods. It was time to wear the heavy-duty bio-hazard suits.</p><p>They probably should have been wearing them all along, but McCoy had told himself he didn’t want to waste them. Like the food and water, he needed to ration them. But if he were honest, he hated wearing them. Partially because it was harder to breath in them, and though they weren’t supposed to occlude movement or sight at all, McCoy couldn’t help but think that they did. The other reason was even less sane — the last two times he’d worn a hazard suit, he’d been attacked by hordes of infected. The damn suits had likely saved his life, but it felt like he was inviting trouble.</p><p>He smacked it twice on the ground and slapped the pod on his chest and waited while it covered him, fusing with his boots and reinforcing their soles, covering the rucksack on his back, covering his clothes and leaving gloves and hood dangling. McCoy put up the hood and pulled the tabs that caused the faceplate to extend and sealed it to the chest. Then he put the gloves on and sealed them seamlessly as well. </p><p>Beyond the almost useless phaser, their weapons were an axe, a prybar, and the long gun. Using the long gun would bring infected down on their heads en mass, sunlight or no, so it was a last resort.</p><p>Without phasers, they <i>had to</i> keep clear of the hordes. They could club a few infected and survive, but not more than that. Everything now depended on them slipping in quietly, finding what they needed, then slipping out unseen and unheard.</p><p>Considering they weren’t certain exactly where they were going…</p><p>The walkway they took to the city center was three meters from a park. It had been lovely, with groves of trees, ponds, fountains, meadows. Now the trees seemed to writhe with activity, packed with people who had lived in Carson. The shadows overflowed, infected leaking out into the blue lawns where they wandered blindly on the edges of the darkness.</p><p>McCoy and Chekov walked as silently as possible, creeping along the walk. McCoy was terrified that they’d alert the infected and they would swarm. He hoped Pasha was fast — he’d won a marathon, but McCoy hoped he could sprint, because he was going to have to to escape a horde. McCoy had no illusion that he would escape.</p><p>When Pasha coughed, he pulled the neck of his coat up over his mouth to muffle the sound. That in addition to the hazard suit kept the noise from carrying, but the figures in the trees milled restlessly. Leonard sweated inside his hazard suit, fear making the perspiration drip down his spine and sides and creep out unpleasantly from under his hairline.</p><p>With the detour, it was past noon before they reached the city center. By then, McCoy was so tense his shoulders were up by his ears and his jaw was cramping. It was exhausting. They walked through a strange sort of war zone, graceful pod office buildings and elegant shops with phaser burns and blood splatter. The promenade was wide and bright and almost empty. Only the flattened flowers, empty phaser guns, and a single Human body that had been trampled to death betrayed the violence that had taken place.</p><p>When they finally reached the main governmental building in Carson — the first place they wanted to look for the comms, the most promising — McCoy called a halt. As much as he wanted to rush right in and call the Enterprise, they needed to relax and prepare first.</p><p>He found a spot on the wide steps that led to the entrance, bathed in sunlight and sat down, silently insisting Pasha join him. Before Pasha could turn on the PaDD to check the interior layout of the building, McCoy unsealed his bio-hazard suit and retrieved the water and several of the high-calorie bars from his pack. They ate and drank and sat quietly for a few minutes.</p><p>McCoy felt grubby, sweaty and gross. He chewed one of the tooth cleaning lozenges, but it didn’t help much. He wanted to wash his hands properly. Hell, he <i>wanted</i> a long, hot shower, clean clothes and fresh sheets on a comfortable bed. He was too old for this apocalypse nonsense.</p><p>He really wished going into the building didn’t feel like such a bad idea.</p><p>Reaching out, McCoy took Pasha’s hand, interlacing their fingers and sliding closer to the other man. He suspected his expression telegraphed his worry because Pasha’s face softened. Then he surprised McCoy by leaning up and kissing him on the lips — a quick but impassioned press of his soft lips against McCoy’s chapped ones.</p><p>“For luck.” Chekov whispered.</p><p>Slowly McCoy nodded. Then he disengaged his hand, repacked the rucksack and resealed his suit. Pasha studied the layout of building on the PaDD, pointing out their destination inside and the route they would take.</p><p>The doors were huge, tall things — almost to the roofline — but moved on silent hinges, so McCoy and Chekov slipped into Carson City Hall unheard. This was no pod building — the floor was a simulated tile mosaic and the entire front wall was transparent and studded with the enormous metallic-bound doors. The mosaics continued up the walls, but the colors grew softer and less distinct, and the motif became abstract.</p><p>One wall held low archways leading into a graceful grotto full of flowers for small public meetings and conferences.</p><p>Opposite the grotto, a third of the hall was taken up by a grand staircase leading to a mezzanine overlooking the hall. There was a gallery in the mezzanine that, according to signage and setup, featured local art and, it appeared, live music. </p><p>The many doors at the back of the mezzanine led to a warren of small bureaucratic offices, well-hidden from the masses.</p><p>The grander rooms were on the ground floor, past the grotto. To suit the VIPs who occupied them, these rooms carried over some of the great hall’s size and majesty, the tile mosaics spiraling through decoratively... until one got towards the back, where the assistants labored, and where the comms was conveniently located for use by the adjacent bigwigs.</p><p>Chekov pointed out the wide, tiled corridor that led past the VIPs to the comms room, and he and McCoy tiptoed across the sunlit hall, the ceiling far above them, the story of the founding of Carson laid out in tiny tiles beneath their soles. McCoy didn’t like how dim the grotto rooms were beside them — he thought he could sense movement. He didn’t know if he were being paranoid or if paranoia didn’t exist on Omicron anymore.</p><p>They reached the corridor leading past the VIP offices. It was bright with the sun shining through the front wall which soothed McCoy’s nerves somewhat. He didn’t like that the door to the darkened Mayor’s office was ajar, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it — pulling it closed would sound artificially loud in the silence. </p><p>Past the fancy offices, they found a small, well-appointed cube farm bathed in light from a bank of windows on the rear wall of the building. Here there was evidence of upheaval — chairs were overturned, PaDDs lay strewn about, the back exit was barred, and a desk had been pushed up against it. There was blood here too, the dried splashes and spatters they’d seen everywhere on Omicron.</p><p>They cut across the cube farm to the comms room. The closed door was clearly labeled. McCoy hoped it wasn’t locked.</p><p>Chekov reached out and touched the door panel, triggering the auto-open. It swung in, revealing a yawning blackness — but stopped halfway, hitting something.</p><p>McCoy put his hand on Chekov’s arm, holding him back from entering the room. Instead he slid his hand along the wall next to the door inside the room until he felt the controls for the lights. He turned them on.</p><p>They flickered before shining their full brightness in the room, but both men were recoiling by then. </p><p>The comms room was full of infected!</p><p>In their haste to back away, Chekov slipped and the axe clattered loudly against the tile wall. Every infected face immediately turned towards the sound and surged forwards blindly. </p><p>McCoy grabbed Chekov by the arm, hauling him up and shooting the first several infected just inches from them. He pulled the trigger again, but the phaser was empty — he threw the gun at the infected even as they ran down the corridor back towards the great hall. Infected were appearing everywhere, trickling out of the VIP offices, streaming out of the grotto. They were clacking their teeth hungrily and swiping with their claws as they milled around in the sunlight.</p><p>Chekov coughed! And the infected all jerked towards the noise.</p><p>There were too many of them to avoid! McCoy swung the prybar, dropping a tall, thin figure with a horrible wet sound, and then a second, smaller infected, gagging inside his bio-hazard suit. He had cleared a path for them into the great hall — but also drew every infected along the path to the sound. Instead of a hundred infected wandering blindly around, a hundred infected were converging on them.</p><p>Pasha seized his hand and yanked him down below the claws, flush against the wall. They waited, holding their breath until there was an opening, and then they scuttled, bent over, along the wall to the grand staircase. McCoy didn’t want to go up — he wanted to cross the hall and go out the doors into the empty, sunny street!</p><p>But Pasha was running up the steps, still holding McCoy’s hand — McCoy had no choice but to run up with him. The stairs were almost completely clear of infected people, so maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea. McCoy just didn’t like putting themselves in a situation where they didn’t have an exit. </p><p>Being separated would be worse.</p><p>At the top, Pasha let him go and made a beeline for the art and music gallery. He picked up an instrument, some sort of metallic horn, and threw it over the rail. It crashed noisily on the floor of the cavernous hall, attracting the crowd of infected. </p><p>McCoy grinned — the kid was brilliant! They could carry a couple of the smaller instruments, and art pieces down the stairs and throw them, distracting the infected away from the doors! He ran over and picked up a hand thrown pot with an attractive red glaze. It would shatter loudly on the tiles. Perfect!</p><p>If they planned well and collected enough things to distract the creatures, they might even be able to come back in and get to the comms! There was still hope!</p><p>Chekov coughed, he had his arm over his face, trying desperately to muffle the sound. The infected downstairs were turning their faces upwards! McCoy flung the pot outwards and it smashed loudly near the doors, again distracting the infected.</p><p>Nodding at Pasha, McCoy turned back towards the stairs — only to be confronted by more of the infected! They were stumbling out of one of the doors at the back of the mezzanine, black eyes reflecting the light as they searched for the cause of the noise. These looked especially devolved — featureless, deep purple stick-people weeping blood. Their jerky walk was fast and sure, their claws razor sharp, and their dead black eyes three times as large as a normal Human’s. They swept their heads back and forth, their eyes like headlamps and McCoy had the terrible feeling that <i>these</i> infected weren’t quite so blind in the sunlight as their fellows.</p><p>When their heads swiveled towards them and stopped, McCoy’s heart sank. They began to turn, crashing into the chairs set up for the musicians and the pedestals for the pottery, making an enormous racket and barely slowing in their inexorable march to infect Chekov and McCoy. They would be cornered on the mezzanine.</p><p>McCoy thought about the long gun. The barrel was too long for suicide. But he could shoot Pasha when he was infected, make sure he never became one of those things. </p><p>“Leo! Leo!” Pasha dragged him to another of the doors along the back wall and flung it open. McCoy cringed, expecting it to be full of infected — but there were only three in the narrow corridor! Pasha stepped forward, axe held high and McCoy closed the door behind them, shutting out the predatory stick-people. He liked these odds better!</p><p>Unfortunately, closing the door — while it kept the bulk of the infected from getting to them, at least until they could break it down — it darkened the corridor, the only light leaking from around the drawn shade of the window at the far end.</p><p>But there was nowhere else to go. Pasha was already smashing the first infected in the corridor, its head exploding and spraying fluids all across the narrow hallway, splattering their hazard suits. The other two were coming at them, clacking and clawing, and McCoy stepped up to assist — and good thing he did! Infected lurked in the open doorway of the first tiny office! McCoy swung the prybar, beating the first one back, then reached in and pulled the door closed!</p><p>Pasha was just finishing the second with the axe and they both took down the third, their bludgeons landing simultaneously. Stepping over the bodies, they sprinted to the end of the hall, McCoy praying for a back staircase that would get them off the second floor and hopefully out of the building. But luck was not with them — there were five tiny offices lined up on the hall, three on one side, two on the other, and the four with their doors still open all seemed to contain infected.</p><p>They would have to clear the hall and barricade themselves in one of the offices. Figure out what to do from there. Or jump out of the window. It was not a short jump. Breaking their legs would make them easy pickings when night fell — if they lasted that long.</p><p>McCoy tried to open the shade — they could blind the infected, gain a little advantage. It was made of the ubiquitous pod material and he couldn’t work out how to open it. Pasha was swinging the axe back and forth in the narrow hall. It wasn’t quite wide enough for two of the infected to attack at once, but that also meant that with Pasha swinging the axe from side to side, McCoy couldn’t stand next to him and wield the prybar.</p><p>The thumping McCoy had barely registered turned into a cracking, splintering sound — the infected in the mezzanine were breaking down the door. McCoy swore. It hadn’t taken them ten minutes! Barricading themselves in an office wouldn’t hold the stick figures off long.</p><p>They were trapped!</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Leonard Nimoy was brought to tears on the set of 2009's Star Trek because Karl Urban sounded so much like Deforest Kelley — he could have sworn his old friend was in the room. Urban, despite being hunky and handsome, manages to embody McCoy in all the ineffable and important ways. A fitting tribute to TOS and a worthy inheritor of a beloved archetypical character.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Escape and Escape Again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Day Four: afternoon</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The horrible stick figures jerked their tortured walk down the dark hall towards them. They were <i>fast</i>!</p><p>Feeling panic rising in his chest, McCoy tore the damn shade off the window hoping to blind the ghouls. They kept coming. He desperately tried to open the the window. As little as he wanted to jump, he would, he knew he would to escape those clacking teeth. </p><p>Pasha’s swings were taking more effort now. McCoy could hear him grunt and cough and gasp for air as he worked. The bodies were piling up at his feet and the oncoming infected climbed herkily over them, attacking Chekov from above.</p><p>He wouldn’t last much longer, McCoy had to do something! He smashed the prybar through the window.</p><p>At first it only bowed outwards, not wanting to break. But on the third whack, it shattered. Quickly, he used the edge of the prybar to clear the big shards from the frame and stuck his head out. And <i>there!</i> There was their salvation!</p><p>McCoy stood up and surveyed the corridor. The stick figures had broken through the door and were bearing down on them, easily mounting the hill of their slain fellows! Feeling a surge of fear and panic, McCoy shoved Pasha behind him and swung the long gun up and cocked it, firing into the lead infected’s head. He didn’t waste time looking to see the result but grabbed Pasha. “Trust me.” He shouted and heaved him headfirst out of the window.  </p><p>Sticking his legs through the window, McCoy tried to follow the young Russian — hoping the pile up of corpses would delay the next stick figure long enough for him to escape. </p><p>But he was snagged on the window frame. McCoy cut a quick glance over his shoulder — directly into the huge eyes of an infected! He screamed! It had its claws in his back and it’s teeth clacked together centimeters from his ear! He thrashed and smashed the butt of the gun into its face as Pasha grabbed his legs and pulled with all of his strength, but it wasn’t enough. McCoy frantically unslung the rucksack and fell forward into Pasha’s arms, feeling the whisper of claws along his arm. </p><p>They landed in a heap, but McCoy scrambled up and slapped the controls for the fire escape and they telescoped away from the building as the infected tried to climb out the window after him. The platform floated over the lawn next to City Hall and deposited them on the wide walkway on the other side.</p><p>They tumbled off the platform and it left them, returning to the window. McCoy grabbed Pasha’s hand and they ran together away from City Hall, staying in the bright sun, in the center of the widest walkways. Until finally Pasha made him stop. </p><p>“Leo, are you hurt? Did zhey hurt you?”</p><p>“What? I don’t think so.”</p><p>“Your back…”</p><p>McCoy swore. “I lost the rucksack! I lost all our supplies… damn it, Pasha! All our food!” He’d lost it all! The tarp, the warming blankets, the camp light, all their medical supplies, the extra bio-hazard suits. All of their food! </p><p>“Leo! Stand still!” Pasha demanded. McCoy heard the undercurrent of fear in his voice and obeyed. The kid recognized how bad it was then, that they’d lost the stuff that was keeping them alive…</p><p>Pasha slapped his shoulder and McCoy’s bio-hazard suit retracted. His vision cleared, splashes of gore he hadn’t even registered disappearing into the little pod. Then Pasha was unsealing his coat and pushing it off his shoulders. “Eet’s contaminated.” He said. McCoy looked at it on the ground and saw the back was shredded. He hadn’t even felt it! He stuck his hand behind his back and felt around — the jacket seemed intact… “Eet ees just zhe coat.” Pasha told him. “You are OK.” Pasha slapped his own shoulder and as soon as his own blood covered bio-hazard suit retracted into the avocado-sized ball, he threw his arms around the doctor. McCoy could feel him shaking. After a moment, he slid his arms around Pasha and tried to comfort him. </p><p>“I’m fine, Pasha. I’m fine.” But inside <i>Doctor</i> McCoy was calling him an idiot. <i>You’re not fine, you’re in shock, you damned fool. Wake up!</i> </p><p>“Zhat vas too close.” Pasha said into McCoy’s shoulder. “Ve cannot do zhat again.”</p><p>“We have to do <i>something</i>” McCoy said. “We aren’t going to survive in this frozen hellscape indefinitely. If we don’t get the virus, malnutrition and hypothermia will do the job. Probably hypothermia.”</p><p>“Zhe spaceport.” Pasha said. “Ve vill go to zhe spaceport.”</p><p>McCoy felt <i>exhausted</i> Given the limited hours of sunlight, the spaceport was at least five days walk from Carson, six or more if rained again or they ran into some other problem. McCoy didn’t think he could do five more days of this — the past two had been the hardest of his entire life (and that included the horrible month before the divorce when he and Jocelyn were screaming at each other all the time and he was sleeping in his car). He was <i>cold</i>. He was hungry. He was dirty and footsore, and he’d gotten Strong and Rhys and maybe Wals killed. He was <i>terrified</i>. And he was sick to death of it! McCoy wanted to sit down right there in the middle of the walkway and give up. </p><p>But he couldn’t. McCoy hated that Chekov was in this situation, but if he were there alone, he’d be dead six times over by now. He couldn’t let Pasha down. He wouldn’t.</p><p>With a deep breath, McCoy pulled every scrap of energy and every wisp of willpower he had together. “We’d better get going, then.” He said. He picked up the prybar, eyeing it distastefully. “Think we can find someplace to wash these off?”</p><p>A familiar sound made them both tense and look around. The shadows between the buildings were full of dark bodies, moving back and forth like the tide — but the most horrifying sight was a stick figure infected like the ones they’d met on the mezzanine tottering into sight at the far end of the walkway <i>in full sun</i>! McCoy and Chekov’s eyes met, and they began running again.</p><p>From then on, the shadows seemed to follow them. Maybe it was more of the stick-figures, maybe it was simply the sheer number of virus-infected people in Carson but there didn’t seem to be any escape. As the afternoon wore on and shadows began to lengthen, McCoy knew with certainty that they would be followed and watched until they holed up for the night and then their bolt hole would be under siege. What were the chances they’d find another tree house? </p><p>Even if they did, there were enough infected tailing them now that they’d probably scratch at the tree until they pulled it down. If a miracle happened somehow and they found a safe place, they’d freeze — no tarp, no blankets. McCoy didn’t even have his coat.</p><p>“Vhat are ve going to do?” Pasha asked as they skirted yet another wooded park. McCoy could tell that he’d been wracking his sizeable brains all afternoon and hadn’t thought of anything more cheerful than McCoy had himself.</p><p>“I don’t know.” McCoy said. He was ready to grasp at straws. “Where is that road? Maybe if we’re away from the buildings…”</p><p>“Zhere ees a road to zhe spaceport. I should have zhought of zhat.” Frowning, the young Russian pulled the PaDD from his coat and turned it on. “Eet’s zhis vay.” Pasha changed direction, shying back from a thicket of trees that in any other circumstance would be gorgeous. They jogged along the empty throughways, past derelict tram stations and modest houses. McCoy noticed that the pod homes were getting smaller, the lots meaner, the tram stops farther apart… and then the homes petered out and the warehouses and factories sprang up. They cut across an empty storage lot, Pasha climbing easily over the blue-gray fence and McCoy following with less agility but more power. On the other side was the road.</p><p><i>And in the road were a line of trucks</i>.</p><p>McCoy felt hope flare in his chest!</p><p>“Leo!” Pasha hissed, grabbing his arm. “Be careful! Zhey could be een zhe trucks. Zhey could be under zhe trucks!”</p><p>“Right.” McCoy breathed, touching Pasha’s arm to reassure him. They approached the vehicles together, checking underneath, checking around it, then checking in the cab. Then Pasha stood guard outside while McCoy popped the pilot’s door and looked inside.</p><p>The console was smashed.</p><p>They repeated the process for the next truck. The second McCoy popped the door, he knew they wouldn’t be taking it — the stench of rotting bodies rolled out and he couldn’t get that door closed fast enough.</p><p>The third truck was completely out of charge. As was the fourth and the fifth. The sixth was crashed into the seventh.</p><p>And on it went. Truck after truck. Pasha’s cough echoing off the wall hiding the road from the city. The hope McCoy had felt began to die.</p><p>At the seventeenth truck, McCoy thought he heard the click-clack of snapping teeth in the distance. </p><p>At the twentieth truck Chekov pointed back the way they had come. A stick figure jerked out from between the trucks and turned towards them. </p><p>They redoubled their efforts, checking quickly, keeping an eye on the progress of the infected. </p><p>The twenty-first truck was stripped. The stick figure’s tortured walk was bringing it directly towards them. </p><p>The twenty-second was out of charge. There were three infected in the road now, all with a bead on them. </p><p><i>The twenty-third truck had a quarter of a charge</i>! The cargo was full of the blue-gray home pods and nothing else. When McCoy touched the starter, it hummed to life. </p><p>Pasha looked up startled. Grinning, McCoy grabbed his hand and pulled him into the cab. Pasha shut the door and whooped, worry dropping away leaving only boyish excitement on his young face. </p><p>It took careful maneuvering to ease the truck out from between the others, but Pasha did it with ease — so fast the infected had not yet reached them when he pulled away. There was an entire empty lane just for them, empty of other vehicles, empty of infected, empty. </p><p>“Think we can make it all the way to the spaceport on a quarter charge? McCoy asked feeling jubilant. When was the last time he’d felt <i>jubilant</i>!? When was the last time he’d cheated death!? </p><p>“Not all zhe vay, but a long vay.” Pasha said, still grinning.  </p><p>“That’s good.” McCoy muttered. “Considering I lost all our food.” </p><p>“Ve vill find more food, Leo. Zhere von’t be so many of zhem outside zhe city, eet vill be safer, ve can scawenge.” </p><p>“Maybe.” Abruptly McCoy’s mood plummeted. They’d cheated <i>nothing</i>. They’d bought themselves another few hours, nothing else. “They’re gonna keep following us.” He said. He knew in the pit of his stomach that they would, they’d never stop trying to infect them. That’s what the virus did. </p><p>“How vould zhey find us?”</p><p>“They just have to stay on the road. It’s a straight-line right to us.”</p><p>“You really zhink zhey vill?”</p><p>“You don’t?”</p><p>The navigator’s face was pinched and gray again. “I don’t vant to die like zhis, Leo.”</p><p>The tone of his voice made McCoy sit up straight. He’d never seen Chekov look so defeated — even during this ordeal, he’d largely kept his innate positivity intact. Once more, McCoy scraped together the willpower to reassure the other man. “We’re safe for now, Pasha.” He said. </p><p>The kid shook his head, negating McCoy’s words. “I’ve hardly lived.” Pasha breathed. “I vanted to do so much more.”</p><p>McCoy reached out and gripped the younger man’s thigh, squeezing hard. “Have you ever heard the curse, ‘may you live in interesting times?’ That’s what we’re doing, kid, we’ve been cursed with an adventure. You’ll be telling your grandkids about this someday.” </p><p>“I vould like zhat to be true.” His voice was very soft. </p><p>“Would you?” McCoy asked, impatience breaking the surface of his consciousness like a submarine that had been lurking undetected for a while. “Really?” </p><p>“Yes.” </p><p>“Then don’t give up on me now, Lieutenant.” McCoy barked. </p><p>Chekov looked startled. “I am not giwing up on <i>you</i>, Doktor. </p><p>“Really? Sounds to me like you’ve got your obituary written already.” </p><p>“Da, and eet ees empty.” Chekov snapped. </p><p>McCoy scoffed loudly. “That what we’re doing now? Throwin’ a pity party? Trust me, kid, that’s best done alone with a bottle of bourbon. No one else wants to hear it.” </p><p>“<i>You</i> don’t want to hear it, you mean.” Chekov muttered under his breath. </p><p>“No, I mean <i>no one</i>.” McCoy said more harshly than he really intended. But he was cold and hungry and scared too. “That includes me, yeah — but only your momma is interested in listening to you cry.” </p><p>“Ees zhat vhat you do?” Chekov retorted angrily. “Cry to your mudder?” </p><p>“My momma’s dead.” McCoy said like he was scoring a point. “There ain’t nobody wants to hear me cry.” </p><p>Chekov looked at him aghast. “Leo, I didn’t mean… I am sorry…” </p><p>McCoy leaned back against the seat, thoroughly ashamed of himself. “No, don’t apologize. It’s my fault.” He rubbed his face tiredly. “We’re both on edge. And I’m an ass.” He turned and looked out the window, watching the wall that stood between them and the outskirts of Carson. </p><p>Eventually, the wall ended, and forest preserve took over. No more pod houses, no more prefabs, businesses, or factories, no more meadows, athletic fields, woven walkways or any other sign of habitation, just trees in shades from lavender to navy on both sides of the road. The tramway arching out of and into the forest was the only sign that Humans came here at all.</p><p>“Ve have anozer half hour or zo before ve must find shelter for zhe night.” Chekov said, pushing the acceleration to the maximum. “Ve should be able to put enough space between us and zhem, yes?”</p><p>“A half hour.” McCoy echoed, peering out the window, examining the sky.</p><p>“Ve have to find someplace.” Chekov said, his voice insistent. </p><p>McCoy thought about driving all night. There couldn’t be very many of the infected out here in the forest preserve, and the hum of the truck’s hover engines weren’t loud. </p><p>But if they did crash, they had nowhere to run. They would be completely exposed, alone in the forest with virus infected people who could see in the dark, didn’t get tired, and would never give up. It would definitely be better if they could find a safe place to hole up for the night. </p><p>“I don’t zhink I vant children.” </p><p> “What?” Chekov had said something to him, but his voice was soft, and McCoy had been absorbed in his thoughts. </p><p>“I don’t zhink I vant children.” Chekov repeated, with a wry glance at the Doctor. </p><p>“Uh…” </p><p>“Earlier you said I vould tell my grandchildren about zhis. I don’t zhink I vill have zhem.” </p><p>And that was relevant now? McCoy rubbed his eyes and tried not to sigh. “You might be dating the wrong people then. High percentages of pretty young women expect to have children.” </p><p>“Only eef zhe relationship ees serious.” Chekov replied. </p><p>McCoy looked at him, examining his expression and body language. Eventually he looked away. “You’re smarter than I was then. I was halfway to the altar at your age.” McCoy barked a humorless laugh. “Of course, you’re smarter than me. You’re a genius.” </p><p>Chekov scoffed softly. “Zhat does not extend to zhe personal life. Ve are all stupid in love.” </p><p>McCoy laughed softly. “You can say that again.” His eyes sharpened. “Are you in love, Lieutenant?” </p><p>“Pasha. Call me Pasha.” Chekov reminded him. </p><p>“Pasha.” McCoy wondered if the kid would tell him.  </p><p>“I zhink so. Maybe.” Pasha said to his hands. “Tell me, does eet hurt like your chest has been cored out vith a laser drill?” </p><p>“Oh yeah.” McCoy didn’t laugh — it would have only revealed the depth of his bitterness and he’d done that enough already. No more pity parties. “It won’t help, but I think she’s an idiot.”  </p><p>“Oh… no. I haven’t told zhem.” Chekov (Pasha) said, all nervous tension, flinching from McCoy’s glance like it hurt. “Eet vould not be appropriate.” </p><p>The kid had a crush on a superior officer — that was the clear upshot. Well, how could he not? He’d been on the Enterprise since he was seventeen, a member of the alpha bridge crew, and he spent most of his time with the senior officers. It would be fine as long as it wasn’t Jim — and he’d said that morning it wasn’t Jim... “So the pretty girls are…?” </p><p>“A distraction.” Pasha said. Then he glanced at McCoy earnestly. “I tell zhem eet ees not serious. I make sure ve have similar expectations.” </p><p>McCoy bet the kid did at that, not that it was any of his business. They were still in the forest preserve. He began to wonder how long they’d last if they holed up in the back of the truck. They were well out of the city now. He felt a glimmer of hope at how empty the trees looked — the shadows here didn’t move. There weren’t thousands of eyes following their steps wherever they went. McCoy had no illusions, there were infected in the trees here. But not in nearly the numbers. Not until the infected of Carson followed them here.</p><p>“Stop!” </p><p>The truck skidded sideways as Pasha braked hard. “Vhat ees eet?!”</p><p>“There’s a turnoff back there. It has to lead somewhere.” What McCoy was really thinking was that if they were going to shelter in the truck, better to try and hide it at least. </p><p>“Eet probably leads to zhe tramvay.” Pasha complained, but he had already turned around. </p><p>“Wrong side of the road.” McCoy told him. “There — see it?” </p><p>Pasha turned the truck carefully onto the little road — more of a track leading into the forest. “Ees zhis smart? Going eento zhe trees?”</p><p>“I don’t know, Pasha.” McCoy admitted. “It’s getting dark, I think we’re out of good options.” Dammit, he already had three people on his conscience, he would do anything not to have Pavel Chekov’s death on him too. <i>Anything</i>. Maybe if the kid hid in the truck, he could lead the infected away. How far would he get in the dark forest preserve? Not far. Not far enough…</p><p>Abruptly, they were faced with a fence — not the blue-gray pod fencing, but honest-to-god metallic chain link like they’d seen walling off the neighborhood in Carson. “Wait here.” McCoy said, sliding out of the cab. </p><p>Pasha swore at him in Russian, as he slid out of the pilot’s side — which McCoy figured was his way of saying that he was coming with him. There was a ring lock on the fence, the kind that if you didn’t put the combination in on the first try, it melted into a lump of slag, fusing your gate closed forever. McCoy stuck the prybar through it and pulled, using all his weight. It bulged and began to steam — Pasha, with a cry of dismay, jumped in, adding his weight to the prybar. They both hung from it, pulling with all their might — and it snapped! Dumping them on the ground! </p><p>Dusk was falling rapidly now. McCoy hurriedly opened the gate — not sure what they would find inside — and closed it after Pasha drove the truck through. He barred it with a fallen branch set nearby, clearly for that purpose. He wasn’t convinced it would hold back the infected long.</p><p>They drove farther in. It looked exactly like the forest preserve they’d seen all along, just inside the fence. “Maybe zhis ees zhe real preserwe.” Pasha said. “Zhe part vhere zhey don’t allow people.”</p><p>“Maybe.” McCoy agreed. He’d be willing to bet there were some infected inside the fence. And eventually a whole lot of infected could pull the fence down. But he felt better having it between them and Carson. </p><p>“Leo…!” Pasha sounded like he couldn’t believe his eyes.</p><p>“Let’s take a look.” McCoy said. </p><p>It was a small metallic cabin, the kind that housed mechanicals in places they were still needed. It had a tiny window up by the roofline on each of the four sides and a single door. Pasha turned off the truck and they got out. The door was locked. </p><p>McCoy managed to wedge a corner of the prybar into the crack of the door and he and Pasha together slowly cracked it open… and then suddenly popped it wide. Inside there was… nothing. It was square and bare, an uneven dark spot on the floor where something had been removed. It was not much bigger than the treehouse. </p><p>They might be safe there, if they could find some way to secure the door — they’d just broken the lock. It would be a miserable night. They’d have to stay awake to make sure they didn’t freeze to death. Without the medical scanner to check their body temperatures, McCoy would be flying blind. He <i>hated</i> being cold! </p><p>“The pod houses.” McCoy said. </p><p>“Vhat?”</p><p>“The truck. It’s full of those pods they use to make houses. We need to bring some in here. We can block the door and maybe use part of one to stay warm.” </p><p>Pasha looked uncertain, but he didn’t argue. Together they opened the back of the truck and discovered how <i>heavy</i> a pod home was. It took both of them to push one off the truck and then roll it into the cabin. After two, McCoy called it. (Before he gave himself a damn hernia — he was a doctor, not a construction worker!) These would block the door and keep them safe or they wouldn’t. </p><p>McCoy had a hard time feeling a sense of urgency — feeling anything but a dull and distant sense of relief. One way or the other, they were resting here tonight. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hi reader(s)! Thank you for the comments, I appreciate them more than you know.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. A Gift</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>DAY FOUR: night</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Finally earning that Explicit rating.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Later, Leonard wondered if they hadn’t had such a hard day, if they hadn’t come so close to being caught and infected, if they hadn’t been so weary and hadn’t bickered in the truck, if they hadn’t been so hungry knowing there was no food, if the light hadn’t faded, leaving them blundering around in the pale drift of moonlight that filtered through the small windows by the roof, or if the home pods hadn’t been so difficult to manipulate that the two of them ended up in hysterics, giggling over the never-ending folds of slippery blue-gray, their hands and knees and elbows greasy from the pod’s secretions, if any of that had been different, would things have gone a different way? </p><p>---</p><p>They labored for almost two hours to secure the metallic cabin with the pod houses. They were sweating from the effort even in the cold, breaking down in laughter whenever one of them lost their footing and slipped across the cabin floor into the opposite wall <i>again</i>. It got to the point where Pasha couldn’t even look at McCoy without giggling (and coughing) — and his laughter made Leonard happy. Lord knows they’d had too little of that. </p><p>By the time they’d managed to block the door — and almost the entire wall the door was on — cover the floor and unpeel enough of the second pod to fashion a crude bower, they both had streaks of the thick oily stuff up and down their clothes. McCoy had a big smudge on his cheek and both of their hands were greasy to the elbow. Not that they could see much in the paltry moonlight coming through the four little windows by the roof, but the oil shone in even in the dimness.</p><p>Leonard held up his hands, straining to see them (missing the camp light acutely). “Not sure seeing the dirt is even a good idea — I can’t wash them.” The disinfectant wipes had met their match — they slid through the house grease ineffectually. McCoy was going to spend the rest of his time on Omicron “well-lubricated” — but not in the way he wanted to be. </p><p>“Eet von’t hurt us.” Pasha said confidently. </p><p>“Yeah? How do you figure?” </p><p>“Eet’s recyclable, yes?” </p><p>“I guess. Everything here is.” </p><p>“And zhey recycle indiscriminately, a pod home might be recycled eento zhe food supply.” </p><p>“If you say so.” </p><p>“Eet vas een zhe briefing material.” Pasha chided. </p><p>McCoy just shrugged. He hadn’t had time for all that stuff. </p><p>“Een any case, eet means zhe pods are non-toxic. Dirty hands vill not make us sick.” He frowned and sniffed his arm. “I don’t zhink ve should eat it zhough.” </p><p>Leonard laughed. “I wish you weren’t here, Pasha, for your sake, but I don’t know what I’d do without you.” </p><p>“You vould be dead by now, Leo.” Pasha giggled. </p><p>Pasha might be joking, but McCoy knew it was true. </p><p>They sat down to sip water directly from the bladder (the water bottle had been in the rucksack), when McCoy heard it. He touched Pasha’s arm, communicating urgency through his fingers. “Listen.” He whispered. </p><p>Claws on metal. There were infected outside their cabin who wanted in. Who wanted them! </p><p>McCoy felt Pasha begin to tremble. “Hey.” He said, putting his arms around the younger man. “They can’t get in.” </p><p>“Zhey could get een!” Pasha countered. He talked to himself in Russian, muttering... </p><p>McCoy rocked him. The younger man was more frightened than he’d realized. McCoy felt like even more of an ass for bitching at him in the truck. “It’s OK. We’re safe tonight.” He murmured. </p><p>Pasha’s trembling continued, even though McCoy could feel him trying to pull himself together. His hands found their way around McCoy’s waist and he seemed to be staring at him in the dark. “Leo, I vant you to do zomething for me.” </p><p>“Yeah, anything, Pasha.”</p><p>The young Russian took a deep, shuddery breath. “I don’t vant to die vithout knowing love. Real love… not just zhe pain… but zhe joy.” </p><p>This was not what McCoy had expected Pasha to say. He tried to form an answer… a question… something… but nothing presented itself and he sat there dumbly. </p><p>Pasha shifted, climbing into McCoy’s lap. “Please, Lyonya...” Pasha kissed his neck. “Please, before zhey come een here, give me zhis gift.” He kissed along McCoy’s jaw. “Make love to me.” </p><p>“Me? Pasha...” McCoy was shocked. His hands rested on Pasha’s hips, trying to hold him still, keep him from coming closer. </p><p>“Don’t say no, Lyonya. Ve are friends, yes? And you are a kind man, I know you are. I vill make eet good for you too.” He begged. “Please, give mee zhis before I die.” </p><p>McCoy could feel tears mingling with Pasha’s kisses, could feel his patchy stubble scratching against his own thicker scruff. “You’re not going to die.” He mumbled trying to sound convincing. </p><p>He wrapped his arms around the kid, rubbing his back and trying to comfort him, and Pasha writhed in his lap. A shock of arousal struck Leonard like a bolt of lightning and his arms tightened around the kid. </p><p>“This... this isn’t a good idea.” McCoy managed to say. </p><p>“You are vrong.” Pasha told him. “Et ees zhe best idea! Unless...” He pulled back trying to look into Leonard’s face. “Unless you already have someone, Leo. Eef you are vith zhe Keptin...” </p><p>“What? No, we’re not like that.”</p><p>“I zhought maybe you are wery discreet. But zhis ees better, Lyonya. I vant you so much! I have vanted you for as long as I can remember.” Pasha ground his hips down into McCoy’s lap. “You vant me too, Lyonya. Let us have zhis together before eet ees too late.” </p><p>Pasha kissed him full on the mouth and Leonard felt himself responding. He <i>should</i> say no... but it was so difficult with the Russian rubbing against him… his lips were so soft... </p><p>“Ho…hold on a minute.”  Leonard stuttered, easing a hand between them, resting it on Pasha’s chest. </p><p>“Lyonya, please...” Pasha’s tears glimmered in a ray of moonlight.</p><p>“Just give me a second to think. I’m not saying no.” Pasha stilled in his arms, resting his trembling head against Leonard’s shoulder. “Come on, lay down with me. Let’s talk a minute.” Leonard shifted back into the bower, pulling Pasha into his arms and laying him down carefully in the hollow they’d made for sleeping. Leonard reclined next to him and Pasha curled against his side. He could feel Pasha’s erection hard and hot against his thigh and his own cock already half mast, yearning to join him. Leonard swallowed hard and pet soft curls back from the pale face, indistinct in the weak moonlight. “There we are, darlin’.” He murmured. “There we are. Tell me what this is about.” </p><p>For a few seconds they both listened to the claws rasping against metallic walls. Pasha inhaled a shuddering breath. “Ve are going to die here, Leo.” He said with utter certainty. </p><p>“I admit it doesn’t look good.” Leonard said regretfully. He would do anything to get the kid out of this nightmare. But he was helpless. “Don’t give up hope yet.”</p><p>“Hope.” Pasha’s soft laugh was bitter. “Leo… I am not asking for so much.” His hands crept up to stroke Leonard’s chest. </p><p>“You know… you know I'm not... Pasha... my divorce … I don’t do this… not anymore… I’m broken…” </p><p>“You are not broken!” Pasha said fiercely. “She did not break you! You are alvays so fast to say zhis about yourself, but eet ees not true! An idiot could see zhat.” </p><p>“Pasha…”</p><p>“Eet vould not harm you to give zhis to me. And eet vould mean so much… to have you… just once, Leo. Just once make love to me… let me have you zhis vay.” </p><p>Pasha didn’t know what he was asking. Leonard <i>was</i> broken. He had been shunting aside his attraction to Chekov for <i>years</i> — because it was inappropriate. Because he was too old for the kid. Because Pavel Chekov deserved so much better than a broken down, middle-aged pauper trying to make good on his last chance at a career. </p><p>Making love to him… it would open the floodgates. Everything Leonard had held in check, would rain messily down all over his life and there would be no putting it back. He would be so in love with the kid — hell, he was halfway there already. If they got off this rock, it was going to destroy him to watch Pasha go back to chasing after pretty girls… or whoever it was he was really in love with… </p><p>But that was the point. The chances that they were getting off Omicron were getting exponentially worse with every passing hour. Pasha wanted a love story before they succumbed to the living death of Zed-56-O.S., and Leonard was the only person who could give it to him. Well, who was he to deny the kid anything? “It… it would… comfort you?” He asked gruffly. </p><p>“Eet vould mean eweryzhing to me.” </p><p>Leonard sighed. “Ok.” </p><p>“You vill!?”</p><p>“Yeah — <i>but</i> we’re doing this the right way. We’re not going to rush.” </p><p>“Yes, Leo.” Pasha said and Leonard heard the joy in his voice. It made his own heart leap. He was so fucked. </p><p>“Have you been with a man before?”</p><p>“Not like zhis.” Pasha admitted. </p><p>“And you’re certain this is what you want?”</p><p>“I have zhought about eet a lot.” Pasha told him softly. “I vant eet wery much vith you.” </p><p>Leonard nodded slowly. “If you change your mind, that’s OK. Just tell me.” </p><p>“I vill not change my mind.”</p><p>“OK. But if you do, Pasha, I won’t be upset. I’ll be more upset if you do something you don’t want, because you think I’ll be disappointed.” </p><p>The younger man pinched Leonard’s arm, <i>hard</i>. </p><p>“Ow!”</p><p>“I get eet. I vill tell you eef zhere ees anyzhing zhat makes me uncomfortable.” </p><p>“You’re a brat.”</p><p>“Da, Lyonya.” Pasha nuzzled his neck and pressed his hips forward. “Are ve going to do zhis before I fall asleep? Zometime zhis year maybe?” </p><p>Leonard laughed. He moved quickly, pushing Pasha onto his back and rolling on top of him, savoring the younger man’s aroused gasp. He pressed the evidence of his own desire against Pasha’s thigh, eliciting another gasp. “Is this what you wanted?” He growled. </p><p>“Da!” Pasha panted. </p><p>Leonard spared a thought for how dirty he was — they were. He wished they were fresh from the shower, that he’d brushed his teeth, that he had clean sheets and lots of medical grade lubricant. </p><p>He wished that this was real and not because their fate was clawing at the walls of their paltry refuge. </p><p>But they had each other and they had a place that was relatively safe and not as cold as it could be, and they had tonight. That had to be enough. Leonard kissed Pasha, marveling at the feel of his lips, how eagerly he responded, their tongues rolling together while Pasha’s hands gripped his shoulders with the desperation of youth…</p><p>They’d taken their outer layers off as they’d worked on the home pods, now Pasha’s clever hands unsealed Leonard’s coverall and rucked his thermal shirts up under his arms, exposing a ‘V’ of skin for his hands to explore. Laughing, Leonard, rolled to the side. “Let me get this off.” He rumbled, reaching down to unfasten his boots. </p><p>Pasha made quick work of his pullover and thermal shirt, then lay back to unseal his jeans. He shoved them down his thighs until his shoes curtailed their progress. Before he could sit up, Leonard reached down and gently pulled the shoes from his feet then tugged the jeans down the kid’s legs. He could feel the muscle through the thermal underwear and his mouth watered thinking about touching them, tasting them. He smiled down at Pasha, tossing the jeans on top of his coverall, and caressed the patchy stubble on his cheek. “Hey.” He ran his hand down Pasha’s side, feeling the heat and softness of his skin, wishing he could see more than the pale shape of his body.</p><p>“Hey.” Pasha answered, pulling Leonard back down on top of him. They were both tenting their thermal underwear and they groaned as they pressed together. </p><p>Leonard captured his wrists and held them over his head in one of his big hands. He kissed Pasha breathless, invading with his tongue, owning with his mouth — showing Pasha how a man could kiss him, rough and strong. Pasha arched underneath him, responding to the intensity, returning it, pressing the firm line of their cocks together.</p><p>“Lyonya.” He gasped as Leonard moved to Pasha’s neck, his scruff scraping over tender skin. They were both going to be red and raw in the morning. (On the Enterprise, Leonard would do a quick pass with a dermal regenerator so neither of them would sport the evidence the morning after… but on the Enterprise, this wouldn’t be happening.) He licked and nipped sensitive nipples, liking how Pasha moaned and writhed under his mouth. Gripping Pasha’s hip with one hand, fingers splayed, Leonard dipped lower, kissing the younger man’s taut abdomen, nosing the trail of wiry hair that sprouted under his navel. </p><p>Grabbing the waistband of the thermal underwear, Leonard lifted them carefully over Pasha’s erection, then slipped them down his legs — legs that were as lean and well-muscled as he’d fantasized. The kid had run a sub two-hour marathon, Leonard ran his hand reverently over the meat and sinew, feeling the compact brawn. </p><p>He moved between Pasha’s legs, spreading them, feeling the ripple of excitement that shivered through the other man’s body. Leonard smiled against the side of Pasha’s knee, resting where he’d set it on his shoulder, nibbling the sweet skin. He dove down, pushing his body back, and pressed his face into the satin-soft skin of the kid’s inner thigh, rubbing his rough stubble gently over it. </p><p>He liked Pasha’s ripe, musky scent. Leonard had worried that after a few days in the same clothes, sleeping in them, running in them, fighting in them, sweating in them, unable to bathe, unable to rinse off the fear and boredom, that the odor would be unappealing at best, overpowering at worst. But it wasn’t. It was powerful — like a basket of ripe Georgia peaches on a hot summer day — but it was good. </p><p>Leonard stroked behind Pasha’s balls with one hand and took hold of his shaft with the other, tasting the damp arousal at the tip. He liked the size and shape of Pasha’s prick — manageable. It looked good in Leonard’s big hand. He could probably take it all without damaging his throat, with a bit of practice. He would <i>feel it</i> fucking him but wouldn’t feel like someone was trying to wedge a chair up his ass sideways. Big, in Leonard’s experience, was only better within reason. </p><p>He took it in his mouth as he pressed a finger against Pasha’s tight hole, probing gently. Leonard took a moment to reach over and scrape some of the thick (non-toxic!) grease from the home pod and massaged it around the hole. Then he slowly penetrated to the first knuckle. </p><p>Leonard had large hands, thick fingers. This was the first test — did Pasha really want this? If he pulled away, Leonard would blow him and then (hopefully) hold and kiss him while he jacked himself off. It would be good — it would be more than he’d ever dreamed of having with the beautiful, brilliant young man. </p><p>But Pasha didn’t pull away, he pushed down, groaning, forcing Leonard’s finger deeper within him. “Lyonya.” He sighed, rocking on Leonard’s hand. Pasha’s enthusiasm didn’t fade as Leonard introduced more fingers, more motion, stretching him open, preparing him with his hand and the pod lubricant. </p><p>“Tell me that you want it.” Leonard growled, licking up his shaft and twisting his fingers inside Pasha, waiting for him to relax, to savor the stretch. </p><p>“I want it. You, I want you, Lyonya!” Pasha gasped. “I want you to fuck me.” He gyrated on Leonard’s hand, panting and spreading his legs wider. </p><p>“I’ll take care of you, darlin’” Leonard pulled his hands away, listening to Pasha’s breathless, pleading sounds.

</p>
<p>There were more claws scratching at the outside of their cabin, they were louder, shrieking as they tried to gain purchase against the metal. 

</p>
<p>“Move over, darlin.’” Leonard murmured, stretching out on his back. He wrapped his arms around Pasha and kissed him, aware that the kid was tasting his own bitter flavor on Leonard’s tongue. Pasha did not seem to mind at all. </p><p>“Tell me vhat to do.” Pasha said. Leonard wanted to cry at the boy’s sweetness, at his innocence. He felt a sob catch in his throat and he swallowed it, kissing Pasha hard to cover. </p><p>“You’re on top.” Leonard said, his voice husky with emotion. He helped position Pasha on his knees, resting on Leonard’s hips. </p><p>Pasha was excited, he kissed Leonard on his mouth, his jaw, his neck. Then he sat up. “I know how…” He said. He reached back and pulled Leonard’s cock from his thermal underwear and slicked it liberally with the pod grease. Then he held it straight up, nestling it against his hole, starting to sink down. </p><p>“Hold on.” Leonard said, catching his hips with his big hands. “Slowly. Very slowly” He said. “Trust me, Pasha.”</p><p>“I trust you.” Pasha threw back his head and moaned as he sank back. Leonard felt the pressure — and the sudden give as his glans was allowed in. He also heard Pasha’s startled cry and his hands flew back to Pasha’s hips to support him. </p><p> “Breathe, darlin’.” Leonard murmured. “There’s no rush. We have all night.” His fingers were digging bruises into Pasha’s flanks. </p><p>Tense thighs damp with sweat under his splayed fingers… Pasha rocked back and forth — very tiny movements as he acclimated to the feel of the fat head of Leonard’s cock inside him. With a deep breath he sunk back another inch… then stopped, panting. </p><p>Pasha felt amazing around his cock — so tight and hot. So pretty. Leonard’s job was to stay still while Pasha took the time he needed to become comfortable… but he was sweating and shaking with the effort of holding himself back. Leonard reached up and cupped Pasha’s jaw. “God, you’re so beautiful, Pasha.” He said. “So beautiful, darlin.’” </p><p>Pasha moaned and gripped his arm. “Do you zhink so?” The kid should never sound so uncertain. </p><p>“I’ve always thought so.” Leonard admitted. </p><p>“Ohhhhh… you feel so good.” Pasha rocked down a bit more. “Inside me… Lyonya, you’re inside me…” </p><p>“You like it?”</p><p>“I love eet! Ohhhh! Pasha babbled a stream of impassioned Russian that Leonard couldn’t translate, but understood well enough… ohhh, Leo!” He bottomed out, sitting on Leonard’s hips, collapsing forwards and catching himself on his hands. </p><p>Leonard lifted his head and kissed Pasha’s forehead. “OK, darlin?’” </p><p>“Good… I’m good.” Pasha said breathlessly. He leaned up and kissed Leonard, tasting like salt and effort. “I have newer felt anyzhing like zhis!” He pushed himself up, resting his hands on Leonard’s chest, and rocked experimentally. Leonard moaned loudly. </p><p>“Oh, God, Pasha!”</p><p>“You like zhat?”</p><p>“Oh yeah… you don’t need to worry ‘bout me, darlin,’ I’m jes fine.” Leonard ran his hands up Pasha’s thighs to his hips. “Whatever you do, I’m fiiiine.” </p><p>Pasha began to rock in a slow rhythm, groaning as he rocked back. Slowly he began to move faster, with more urgency, pulling up more and impaling himself harder. “<i>O Bozhe. O Bozhe. O Bozhe. O Bozhe. O Bozhe</i>…” He chanted, panting. </p><p>Leonard bent his knees, digging his heels into the pod below them. He was ready when Pasha made a frustrated sound. “<i>Etogo ne dostatochno</i>…Lyonya…” He reached out for balance as he slammed himself down on Leonard’s cock. “I don’t… eet’s not enough…” </p><p>Gripping Pasha’s hips firmly, Leonard pressed down on his heels and fucked up into the gorgeous young man riding his cock. </p><p>“Y-y-yes!” Pasha shouted. “Y-yes!” </p><p>“Come here.” Leonard demanded, pulling Pasha against his chest. </p><p>“Vhat…?</p><p>Leonard rolled them over. Holding Pasha’s shoulders with one arm and his leg with the other, they made it without uncoupling. Leonard was all over him, his entire body weighing on Pasha, his mouth covering the younger man’s, his tongue stroking its way inside Pasha’s mouth, and Leonard’s thick cock pressing inside him, wrapped tightly in the molten heat. Pasha groaned into the kiss. </p><p>Smiling, Leonard pulled back and wrapped one of Pasha’s leg around his waist, lifted the other up onto his shoulder. “OK?” He asked.</p><p>“Da… I vish I could see your face, Leo.” </p><p>“Here.” Leonard took Pasha’s hand and kissed the palm, then rested it against his cheek. </p><p>Pasha caressed his face from temple to jaw, his hand warm. “Lyonya.” He murmured. </p><p>“Hold on.” Leonard said letting Pasha feel his grin. He pulled his hips back firmly and thrust. </p><p>“Mmmm.” Pasha sighed happily. Leonard shifted forwards and thrust again. “Oh yes.” He moved even more forwards, pulling the leg around his waist higher and thrusting again. </p><p>“<i>OHHHH!</i>”</p><p>“There it is!” Leonard exclaimed. “Ok, darlin’?” </p><p>“Da! Da, Lyonya! Harder!” Pasha’s fingernails dug into his neck and the shiver of pain felt <i>perfect</i>! </p><p>Leonard grinned, bracing himself and Pasha, and fucked the beautiful kid silly. It had been a <i>long</i> time since he’d done anything like this — and even longer since he’d done it with someone he liked nearly as much as he liked Pavel Chekov — so Leonard knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. Hell, he couldn’t remember anyone feeling this good ever! “Come for me, Pasha.” He growled, working a hand between them to stroke Pasha’s prick. “Come all over me, gorgeous.” </p><p>And just like that, Pasha cried out his name and climaxed, spurting hot and wet in Leonard’s hand, groaning and shuddering with every wave of pleasure. Leonard fucked him through it, straining to see his face in the weak moonlight. When the tension left Pasha’s body, Leonard sighed and carefully let Pasha’s legs down from his shoulders. He began to pull out, but the kid’s legs wrapped around his waist trapping him. </p><p>“Vhere are you going, Leo?” Pasha asked lazily, stroking his hands up Leonard’s shoulders and into his hair. </p><p>“Thought I’d go for a stroll down by the river.” Leonard cracked. “Nowhere, darlin.’ Just gonna lay down for a cuddle, if that’s alright.” </p><p>“But you hawen’t finished.” Pasha protested. </p><p>“Well, I was thinkin’ maybe you could give me a hand with that, darlin.’”</p><p>Pasha pulled Leonard’s face down and kissed him his tongue filthy in his mouth. He writhed his hips, sliding and contracting around Leonard’s cock. Leonard gasped and whined, pressing his forehead against Pasha’s neck. “Come inside me, Lyonya.” Pasha whispered. “I vant eet.” </p><p>Leonard hesitated, but he didn’t question Pasha again — the kid had known what he wanted all along. He began to move, more gently at first, easing back into the rhythm, being vigilant for any sign that it was too much, that it was hurting Pasha. </p><p>But Pasha moaned and tightened his legs around Leonard’s waist. And in the very short time it took for Leonard to come, cooed his name. “Lyonya, no one has ewer made me feel so good. Eet vas amazing… you are amazing, Leo…” </p><p>The electric pleasure pooling in his spine, low in his belly, in his balls, abruptly exploded, whiting out the world. Only sensation remained — Pasha’s hands on his arms, Pasha’s legs around his hips, Pasha’s body gripping his cock, Pasha’s voice whispering about love…</p><p>When he came back to himself, Leonard was giggling helplessly — he was often afflicted with post-orgasmic mirth — and crushing Pasha under his limp body. He lifted himself off the poor kid, settling himself to the side where Pasha could get close if he chose, and let the giggles run their course. “It’s ok, kid.” He assured Pasha who was hesitating uncertainly. “This always happens — it’s just an imbalance in the dopamine and adrenaline released during orgasm. Nothing to worry about.” Leonard welcomed the warm body pressing against him as he tittered. He drew shapes on Pasha’s taut abdomen with his finger. </p><p>“Zhat ees very silly.” Pasha informed him when Leonard’s laughter finally tapered off. </p><p>“Comes with the package.” Leonard said. He wasn’t going to think about Jocelyn now. <i>He was not.</i> “Lucky you.” </p><p>“I vould be wery lucky to be your lover, Leo.” Pasha said solemnly. “Anyone vould.” </p><p>Leonard scoffed and bit back the self-deprecating crack. He settled on, “Let’s not spoil the mood.” He sat up and grabbed the disinfectant wipes and cleaned up the sticky come on his hand and belly. He gave a fresh wipe to Pasha, tossing his used one in the corner. Then he grabbed their clothes, draping them over their naked bodies. </p><p>As soon he lay down again, Pasha snuggled up and Leonard wrapped his arms around the younger man, pulling him close. They kissed lazily. </p><p>“Lyonya.” Leonard asked. “What is that?” </p><p>“Mm. Eet ees like ‘Pasha’ is for Pavel — familiar name for Leonid.”</p><p>“I thought that was ‘Leo.’”</p><p>“No.” Pasha said softly. “Zhat ees <i>my</i> familiar name for you. Lyonya… eet ees more… intimate.” </p><p>Leonard raised his eyebrows. “Is ‘Pasha’ intimate?” </p><p>“Nyet.” Pasha giggled softly. “My parents call me Pasha, Hikaru, Nyota, some ozhers… intimate name vould be… Pashenka.” </p><p>“Who calls you Pashenka then?” Leonard asked lazily, vaguely aware the question was too intrusive, but not caring. </p><p>“No one has ewer called me zhat.” </p><p>“Mmm… we can’t have that… you can be my Pashenka.”</p><p>“Yours… Leo… all yours.” Pasha murmured as they fell asleep. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p><i>O Bozhe </i> - Oh my God<br/><i>Etogo ne dostatochno</i> - This is not enough</p><p>So... there we go. Chekov finally made a move and McCoy's massive defenses were eroded enough that he responded. It's highly situational — does it continue or is it just the one night? If it does go on, what happens if and when they return to the Enterprise?</p><p>Thoughts?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. A Gentleman</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>DAY FIVE: morning, afternoon</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>Jim was going to marry Spock and Leonard was Jim’s best man of course. But at the bachelor’s party, Leonard found out that meant HE had to have sex with Spock, but no one could tell him WHY. Vulcans didn’t talk about their mating rituals. Jim was begging him to go through with it. Spock was just standing there with that stupid eyebrow raised, waiting for him to do something. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Leonard didn’t want to let Jim down. But come on! Spock!? </i>
</p><p><i>He could imagine it all too well — “Doctor, I appreciate your efforts, but if you could suck my left testicle, it is the more sensitive. Thank you, Doctor.” If Jim wanted that, he was welcome to it, but leave Leonard out of it! </i> </p><p>
  <i>And then Leonard was running a marathon with Spock, thinking that if this was all he had to do, he could eke out all 42 plus kilometers to help Jim out. With the added bonus of Jim settling down instead of chasing skirts relentlessly. Leonard was closer to Jim than anyone else, only he saw how self-destructive the Captain’s sleeping around was — a holdover from a childhood with too little love and too much to prove. The liaisons inevitably left Jim depressed and restless. Leonard had to hold all that restlessness in his arms, and it was so heavy. It was all cowboys-and-indians-kicking-up-dust-fighting in his arms and it was TOO MUCH. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>A woman approached. She was petite and curvy in a flowing, translucent gown and her every movement was light and graceful. Her full lips trembled as she gestured that they should follow, her hands as lovely as little birds. She led them to a safe place where Jim told him, “Bones, I NEED Spock to be my first officer... I need him... Do zhis for me. Do zhis one zhing. Eet vill not hurt you...”</i>
</p><p>Leonard woke in sunlight. </p><p>It took him a long time to work out where he was — he felt… good. His skin was tingling, and he didn’t recognize the ceiling, but he had that lazy, content feeling that he got the morning after one of his rare shore leave assignations… a successful one this time... </p><p>Pasha shifted next to him and coughed, and it all came back. Omicron. Zed-56-O.S. Empty cities, reaching claws, black bloody eyes. Crewman Strong dead. Rhys dead. Chekov’s uncle dead. Wals gone. Hordes of infected. No way to reach the Enterprise. </p><p>Making love. </p><p>Before they died. </p><p>They were alive this morning. </p><p>His arms were around Pasha who rested on his chest. Leonard had a hand on the small of his back the other tucked under Pasha’s chin. They were both naked under the heap of their clothes. For once Leonard wasn’t cold. </p><p>He turned his head and kissed Pasha’s forehead. A wave of panic crested and broke over him. He shouldn’t have let this happen — he had no idea what he was supposed to do now, but Leonard knew that sure as shit, things would change between them. You couldn’t make love like they had and expect things to stay the same.  </p><p>It changed <i>everything</i> for Leonard. He couldn’t help the welling up of fondness for Pasha, the desire to pet him and coddle him and press kisses against his skin. Leonard couldn’t help but care about Pasha’s feelings and his well-being and every little thing he liked or disliked… and what he could do to make Pasha’s life easier… more comfortable… happier…</p><p>Did Pasha want that? Leonard was too exhausted by the last few days to figure it out. He didn’t have any defenses anymore. Pasha had asked him for a love affair, and he got it. Leonard couldn’t turn it on and off. To be honest, Leonard could use a little love too. </p><p>Maybe he’d get hurt. He’d probably get hurt. No, Leonard would definitely get hurt. The only question was when — would it be when Pasha woke up? Or would it be tonight or tomorrow or when they made it back to the Enterprise? </p><p>(If they made it back to the Enterprise.) </p><p>There was no way that someone young and brilliant and wonderful like Pavel Chekov wanted to saddle himself with a bitter, middle-aged misanthrope. Sooner or later, if he didn’t know already, Pasha would discover that Leonard wasn’t all that special — Starfleet had needed doctors badly enough that they weren’t too picky. He’d reached his current position because his superiors had been killed by the lunatic Romulans, not by distinguishing himself in any way. Maybe Leonard had had a moment to shine, years ago, but he’d squandered it in favor of his marriage. More fool him. By the time his marriage fell apart, others were shining much more brightly than he ever could have. </p><p>Leonard pressed his lips to the younger man’s head again. His hair felt soft and smelled good. He could lay here all day doing nothing but filling his nose with the smell of clean hair. But the reality was that they could not afford to waste the sunshine. Leonard had to stop wallowing. </p><p>“You awake, darlin’?” He murmured. </p><p>“Mmmphgh.”</p><p>Leonard chuckled, hopelessly charmed, and Pasha stirred. “S’too early.” </p><p>“It’s daylight.”</p><p>“Oh... right...” Pasha groaned. </p><p>“Reality bites.” </p><p>“Da.” </p><p>“How are you feeling this morning?” Leonard stroked his hand down from Pasha’s back to his ass. “You’re not too sore?” He clarified, waiting for the younger man to pull away from him. </p><p>“I don’t zhink so.” Pasha stretched. </p><p>“Good.” </p><p>“How are <i>you</i> feeling, Leo?” Pasha looked up and Leonard saw the fear in his eyes — fear of rejection? Leonard smiled and kissed him chastely. </p><p>“You don’t have to look so worried about me, darlin’.”</p><p>Pasha smiled back uncertainly. </p><p>Leonard brushed a lock of sandy hair back from Pasha’s temple, his fingertips caressing the fine skin. “I’m yours as long as you’ll have me.” He murmured. <i>He was so stupid. He was always so stupid! </i></p><p>Pasha hugged him tightly, burying his face in Leonard’s neck. Leonard wrapped his arms around the younger man (his lover) and held him, stroking his soft hair... until a coughing fit took him, and Leonard lifted him up to a sitting position and pressed his ear to Pasha’s chest, listening intently to his lungs. It was starting to sound a little wet. If they didn’t get off Omicron soon, Leonard would have to find another med kit. One with the proper drugs to treat compromised lungs. </p><p>He put on a professionally bland expression — no need to alarm Pasha — when something very strange caught his eye. “Look at this!” </p><p>“Vhat?” </p><p>Leonard held up his hand. Then held up both hands to the sunlight shining down from the four small windows above. “They’re clean! They should be filthy.” <i>Hell, they should both stink of sex</i>. “They were oily up to the elbow last night!” He picked up Pasha’s hands. “Yours are clean too! And your hair!” Leonard pulled Pasha close and stuck his nose in soft, sandy curls. “It didn’t register earlier, but your hair smells good — ok that part registered, but why does it smell good? Why!? We haven’t washed in days!” Leonard began tossing their clothes aside, examining their bodies. “Not a smudge on either of us! What happened?” He frowned epically standing up. He waved his arms then looked down incredulously at Pasha. “It’s warm in here!” </p><p>Pasha was examining his jeans. “Zhese are clean too.” </p><p>All their clothes were denuded of grease and dirt and body odor. They discovered the axe and prybar, in the corner where they’d been tossed, were also pristine, all the gore of the previous day disappeared. Even the soiled disinfectant wipes were clean</p><p>“Eet must be zhe pod home.” Pasha finally said. “Zhey are self-cleaning.” </p><p>“All the grease is gone.” Leonard said, sliding his bare foot across the gray-blue surface. “It was everywhere.” </p><p>Pasha had the PaDD, but the charge was completely gone. He tossed it aside. “I vould guess,” he said. “Zhat zhe oily substance zhat vas ewervhere last night, keeps zhe pods healthy in stasis. But vhen zhey are actiwated, zhey consume dead skin cells and other contaminants, including zhe oily substance. Zhe energy eet gains from zhe consumption, eet uses to heat zhe enwironment.”  </p><p>“That’s... that’s <i>genius</i>.”  Leonard understood why they were everywhere. </p><p>“Da.” Pasha’s stomach growled loudly.</p><p>Leonard forced himself to smile. “Normally, I’d make you breakfast, darlin'… but my manners aren’t what they used to be.” </p><p>Pasha smirked. “No pancakes, Leo? No bacon and eggs?” </p><p>“Sad, ain’t it.”</p><p> “Not so sad.” Pasha said, reaching for Leonard. </p><p>Leonard sat down, pulling the younger man into his lap and kissing his neck. “I have delicious water on offer. And nutritious lozenges for tooth cleaning.” </p><p>Pasha laughed, leaning into Leonard’s kisses. </p><p>“We should get dressed.” Leonard sighed. “Maybe we can get all the way to the spaceport today.” </p><p>Pasha looked doubtful. “Maybe ve can find some food on zhe vay.” </p><p> “I could eat.” Leonard pushed the young Russian off his lap and rooted through the clothes for his thermal underwear.

</p><p>“I have an idea” Pasha said as they dressed. “To keep us varm.” </p><p>“I like the sound of that.”</p><p>“Zhis pod material, ve have seen eet eweryvhere. I zhink ve can cut off pieces and use eet like zhe tarp. And ve can vrap eet around us vhen ve are outside.” </p><p>“You think it’ll work?”</p><p>“Eet can’t hurt to try.”</p><p>Leonard fingered the gray-blue folds that they’d slept in. “Pod coat is better than no coat, I guess.” He wasn’t looking forward to braving the outdoors without a coat. </p><p>The pod cape, it turned out, was brilliant. The material wrapped around his body easily without constricting and fastened to itself in front. He could form a hood to cover his head and pull it down to his ankles. In the cab of the truck — which had taken some claw damage overnight, enough to put holes in the doors and crack the windshield — Leonard was protected from the hard edge of the chill.</p><p>As was Pasha — Leonard had insisted that he needed to wear a protective pod cape too. When the clouds rolled in and a soaking drizzle began to fall, leaking in through the holes, they were both very glad to have the gray-blue capes. </p><p>Leonard... Leonard felt almost happy. Pasha smiled at him often as they drove down the road towards the space port. </p><p>It was stupid, absolutely stupid to feel happy. They were still stuck on Omicron where it was miserably cold, they didn’t have anything to eat, he couldn’t treat Pasha’s cough and it was getting worse, and there was a horrible virus that turned people into monsters. </p><p>Leonard let himself think they’d lost the infected from Carson, that he’d been wrong about them following the two of them down the road. Sex with someone lovely always did make him an idiot. </p><p>When the rain began, the sky darkened enough that the infected ventured out from the trees. The truck had given them a head start, but now they had to dodge the odd loner on the road. And Leonard was certain he could see a dark shadow on the horizon behind them. The infected were fast and indefatigable and didn’t have to stop for the night, eventually they would catch up. He didn’t know where he and Pasha could stay overnight...</p><p>“Leo, vould you really teach me to ride a horse?”</p><p>“I really would. No, let’s say, I really <i>will</i>.” </p><p>Pasha smiled, shyly happy. “Does Jo ride?” </p><p>“A bit. She doesn’t get to go out to the farm as much as I did, but she’s good with the horses.” Leonard told him. </p><p>“I saw zhe Keptin ride a horse once, on an avay mission.” Pasha said. </p><p>“I remember.” Leonard snorted. “Rigel 4.” </p><p>“He told you about eet?” Leonard had not been part of the away team.  </p><p>“He didn’t have to.” Jim, the idiot, was allergic to horses. Leonard had been treating his rash and breathing problems for a week after that ride. Not that he could tell Chekov. “Why didn’t you ride?” </p><p>“Eet vas zhe first time I’d ewer seen a horse.” Pasha told him. “Uhura vent vith zhe Keptin to translate his meeting vith zhe colonists. I stayed vith Mister Spock and completed zhe enwironmental analysis.” Pasha smiled. “I zhink zhe Keptin really vanted Spock to ride vith him, but Spock said eet vould be illogical to accompany him vhen he had so much to accomplish vhere ve vere.”  </p><p>Leonard chuckled. “That’s our Spock.” </p><p>“Zhat vas zhe first time I saw a horse and zhat vas zhe first time I vas almost certain zhe Keptin vas trying to flirt vith Mister Spock… you aren’t really opposed to zhem getting togezher?” </p><p>“No, of course not. It would be good for Jim to have a steady relationship — but he flirts with everyone, so don’t get your hopes up.” </p><p>“Zhe Keptin doesn’t flirt vith you.” </p><p>“He knows better.” Leonard growled. </p><p>Pasha made a sound of acknowledgment. “You get special treatment.” </p><p>“I get the courtesy of being treated like a friend instead of a potential bedmate.” Leonard snarled. “A courtesy he should extend to more people.”  </p><p>“Vhat did you do to get him to do zhat? To treat you zhat vay?” </p><p>“I didn’t have to do anything.” Leonard replied. “You’re not the only genius on the bridge of the Enterprise. He never tried that shit on me.” </p><p>“You have alvays rated special treatment, Leo. </p><p>“Yeah, lucky me.” Leonard muttered. Then he caught Pasha’s look. “OK, what are you insinuating? I told you last night we weren’t an item. You think I’d put up with him catting around if we were?” </p><p>“I beliewed you — and no, I don’t zhink you vould.” </p><p>“So?” </p><p>“Maybe he vishes zhat you vere.” </p><p>Leonard laughed. “Jim? No, I can assure you, Pasha, you have no competition” He said it broadly, like the joke it was — that also happened to be true. “Jim and I, we’re friends. Best friends — I’m closer to him than anyone else… closer to him than I was to my wife… but romantic? It is not.” </p><p>“Eet’s lucky zhat you vere compatible roomates, like Hikaru and me.” </p><p>“Luck had nothing to do with it.” Leonard scoffed. “We met on the shuttle to San Francisco and hit it off. Jim hacked the registrar’s office and changed our room assignments.” He laughed at Pasha’s scandalized look. “I don’t guess he’ll get in trouble for it now.”  </p><p>“Special treatment. Special nickname. Special criminal undertaking...” </p><p>“Friends.” Leonard said firmly. </p><p>“Vhen ve are rescued, you vill tell him all about zhis affair.” Pasha waggled his hand between them. </p><p>“I don’t kiss and tell.”  Leonard grumbled. <i>Affair</i>? </p><p>“I vill tell Hikaru.” </p><p>“Christ.” Leonard would have to remember to transfer Sulu to M’Benga. </p><p>“You vould rather I didn’t?” </p><p>“I would rather my personal business stay my personal business.” Leonard growled. “But I won’t tell you what to do with your personal business.” </p><p>“Hikaru is wery discreet. Ees Scotty can’t keep a secret.” </p><p>“Is that why I know more than anyone should about Keenser’s sex life.” It was a rhetorical question. “Yet oddly nothing about Scotty’s own — not that I’m askin’, I don’t wanna know.” </p><p>“Eet ees because he ees pining for Nyota.” </p><p>“Uhura? No, don’t tell me any more. I’m still scarred from passing out prophylactics for shore leave — before I delegated it to Chapel.” </p><p>Pasha giggled. “Leo, you really are a prude.” </p><p>“The word you’re looking for is ‘gentleman.’” </p><p>“Zhat ees true, Leo. You are a gentleman… for good or ill.” </p><p>“For good or ill.” Leonard agreed. </p><p>They drove in silence. Leonard drowsed, despite the damp cold, huddling inside his pod cape. Once again, he was grateful for the boots — his feet were dry and not nearly as cold as they could be. </p><p>When the sun was high overhead, they stopped and shared a little water from the bladder for lunch. The water was running low now and Leonard was concerned. Going without food was one thing, going without water something else entirely. </p><p>They switched places and Leonard took the wheel. Driving was monotonous — there were no features along the road, just the endless forest preserve, as far as they could see on both sides. The rain had settled into a steady drizzle and Leonard watched it through a large intact section of the spidered windshield. He caught himself starting to nod and jerked himself to alertness. </p><p>“Do you remember zhe first time ve met?” Pasha asked. </p><p>Leonard was grateful for the conversation. It would help keep him awake. No wonder Pasha had been going on that morning. “Yeah… uhm, it was the day Vulcan was destroyed, wasn’t it. Or I guess we <i>met</i> the next day when you had the idea to hide in Saturn’s rings, but I saw you on the bridge when I was chasing after Jim.” Leonard remembered the kid turning around in his seat, his eyes the size of dinner plates. They’d locked eyes for a second, then the kid had dropped his gaze and turned back to his console. In retrospect, it was a little strange — Chekov was no shrinking violet. He piped right up with his crazy-brilliant ideas.  </p><p>“Eet vas before zhat.” Pasha said softly. “At zhe Academy.” </p><p>“Oh...” Leonard wracked his brain. “Sorry, I hardly remembered my own name, I was so busy back then.” Jim hadn’t made it any easier, constantly needing ‘his wingman’ to keep him out of trouble. Not that he could. Jim would show up at the clinic when Leonard had night shifts with a bottle of bourbon and proceed to make him incompetent to practice. Leonard had to put his foot down and insist he leave the bourbon at home and bring beer instead. </p><p>“Professor Birch... I vas her TA...” </p><p>It took another moment for Leonard to remember the incident. “That was you?” He stared at Pasha, trying to fit his face into the memory. </p><p>Leonard hadn’t gotten around to sitting through some of the courses every cadet was required to take until his last year — partially because he was hoping he’d be excused from some of them (he was) and partially because he was already so much older than all the other cadets, it hardly mattered if he took them his first year or last. That’s how he found himself in Introduction to Star Charts in the second quarter of his third year. All Starfleet personnel needed at least a basic understanding of how astrogation worked and how star charts were read. Just enough so that when the experts needed to explain something, you could tell they weren’t talking out of their ass, something of which Leonard heartily approved. </p><p>He’d put in slightly more than the minimum effort needed to pass the class — he learned the material but didn’t distinguish himself in any way. It was already much too easy to stand out simply by being able to grow a full beard. And what was the point? The chances that a doctor would end up having to navigate a starship were so small — hell, if they were down to <i>him</i> they were in more trouble than his lack of navigational knowledge. </p><p>Leonard had liked Professor Birch. She was a good instructor, the kind of person with such a passion for the subject that she unironically and unselfconsciously nerded out over it. She’d introduced her TA on the first day and Leonard remembered that extra tutoring was available with him. But Leonard had never needed it. </p><p>He wouldn’t have remembered the TA at all if he hadn’t taken ill and collapsed during class. Birch had been beside herself, and Leonard had sprung into action, making the other students back off while he checked the kid’s vitals. </p><p>Leonard had thought the TA looked very young — but people often did when they were unconscious — pale and freckled and much too thin. He’d diagnosed Argelian Monkey Pox, which had been going around (and which in retrospect explained the freckles). Leonard had quarantined the classroom, called medical to come to test and vaccinate the other students. Leonard was already vaccinated, so he’d carried the TA into the adjoining room, a small lounge, and laid him on the couch. </p><p>The kid had come around and asked him what was happening. </p><p>“You got Monkey Pox, kid.” Leonard had told him gruffly. “And you don’t eat enough. When was the last time you had a full meal?” </p><p>“I eat all zhe time.” The kid had protested weakly. “Eet doesn’t stick.” </p><p>“Hmph.” Leonard had made some notes on the kid’s field report. “The nutritionist is gonna assess your diet.” </p><p>“Did you... carry me een here?”</p><p>“Yep. Don’t let it go to your head, I’m a doctor not a pack mule. Now tell me, you been hanging out with any Argelians?” </p><p>“Eet ees not illegal.”</p><p>Leonard had laughed, surprised that someone so sick could sound so imperious. “No, but it’s not exactly smart since Argelian Monkey Pox made the jump to Humans. You couldn’t wait until you got vaccinated?” </p><p>“Obwiously not.”</p><p>“Smartass. You’re lucky I didn’t skip class today.” </p><p>“You newer skip class.”</p><p>“How do you know? Oh, you take attendance. Well, the good news, kid, is you’re gonna live. The bad news is that Argelian Monkey Pox is fifteen days of fever, nausea and diarrhea so bad you wish you were dead. There’s no cure, and the only treatment is to park you in Medbay with acetaminophen, light sedation and a saline drip. So, I hope your Argelian was worth it.” Leonard looked up as two medical interns arrived with a quarantine stretcher. “Here’s your ride.” He’d lifted the kid onto the stretcher himself, recognizing that the conversation had worn his patient out thoroughly. He’d inserted the I.V. and started hydration — the kid needed it badly. “The saline will make you feel a little better. Hang in there — it’s only two weeks. They’ll take good care of you.” </p><p>And that was the last Leonard ever saw of the TA. He’d intended to go check on the kid, but he’d been doing an intense rotation in the xeno maternity ward and Jim was seeing this little shit who kept messing with the PaDDs Leonard used for his schoolwork, and he forgot. </p><p>“You vere right. I vished I vas dead for two veeks.” </p><p>“I should’ve checked in on you.” Leonard admitted regretfully. </p><p>Pasha scoffed. “No, I’m glad you didn’t. I didn’t vant to see anyone. I didn’t ewen let Hikaru wisit.” </p><p>Leonard filed that away. Some people isolated when they were sick, pulled away from the people they cared about. On the other hand, who wanted their friends sitting around anxiously when you had to shit your guts out? </p><p>“Looks like you got your diet sorted.”</p><p>“Yes, zhat vas wery helpful, Leo. I vas stupid — I hadn't ewen noticed...” </p><p>“It's not your job to notice, it's your physician's. Was it the running?”</p><p>“Da.” Pasha told him. “And zhe getting taller. I vas eating all zhe vrong zhings. Zhey issued me a new allotment card for zhe mess hall and zhe nutrition plan gave me lots of energy.”  </p><p>“Good.” The kid had been painfully thin — even if he had just undergone a growth spurt, he needed to be more than just skin and bones. He was happy that Pasha’s slim form was now solid and muscular. </p><p>Leonard watched the rain lash against the cracked windscreen, leaking into the cab along with a steady stream of cold air. “<i>Was</i> the Argelian worth it?” He asked. “Or did you get the pox secondhand?” </p><p>Pasha hesitated. “I vent to a small talk by Sulo Bathjilree... he ees a wery famous cartographer of —" </p><p>“I know who Sulo Bathjilree is. He’s not Argelian.”  </p><p>“No. But my date vas.” </p><p>Leonard felt his eyebrows hit his hairline. “Your <i>date</i>?” </p><p>“Vhy do you sound zo surprised?” </p><p>“You were, what? Sixteen?” </p><p>“You didn’t date vhen you vhere sixteen?” </p><p>“Not anyone who could take me to a 100,000 credit a seat talk.” </p><p>“Eet vasn’t zhat much.” </p><p>“Not the point.” </p><p>Pasha laughed. “Leo. I’m fine. You don’t need to vorry about zomething from five years ago.” </p><p>Leonard took a deep breath. Then he took another reminding himself that Pasha was an adult not a kid, not anymore, and it was questionable whether he’d been much of a kid even then. </p><p>Abruptly he felt ashamed of himself for taking advantage of their situation. They weren’t going to die — Jim Kirk would not let his best friend and his best navigator disappear into the forest preserve on Omicron Settlement forever. Jim was a drama queen of the first order, he’d wait until the last second and then sweep in, the rescuing hero. He’d hold it all over Leonard’s head too. “<i>Bones, why were you worried?”</i> and “<i>I told you you just needed to get laid</i>.” </p><p>Leonard had taken advantage of Pasha’s desperation, to get what he’d wanted all along. He was little better than the Argelian who’d bribed a sixteen-year-old with the chance to see the father of his field knowing he couldn’t turn it down. Pasha even thought this was his own idea. He’d <i>begged</i> Leonard for it. </p><p>“Vhat ees zhat look on your face, Leo?” Pasha asked suspiciously, catching hold of his hand. </p><p> “I... I owe you and apology, Lieutenant Chekov...” Leonard felt so ashamed. “We should...” <i>keep it professional from now on</i>. It was too late for that! </p><p>Pasha squeezed his hand <i>hard</i>. “Ees zhis vhen you decide you’ve taken advantage of zhe poor leetle Russian boy?” He asked scoffing. “I hoped you vould be better zhan zhat, Leo.” </p><p>Leonard cleared his throat. “Sorry to disappoint.” He muttered. “One thing I’m good at.” </p><p>“Shut-up, Leo. You newer let yourself have anyzhing zhat you vant.” Pasha said sharply. “Except bourbon.” </p><p>“Hey… don’t knock bourbon.” Leonard said weakly. </p><p>“I’m not letting you go so easily.”</p><p>“Pasha...”</p><p>“Ve cannot afford zhis distraction.” Pasha said, dropping Leonard’s hand violently and crossing his arms over his chest. </p><p>“Pasha.”</p><p>“I don’t have zhe patience for your equwocating.” </p><p>“You’re angry.”</p><p>“You are wery obserwant.” </p><p>“Pasha...” </p><p>“Leo, I’m hungry, I’m cold, I’m damp, I’m terrified, I hate zhese shoes, I can’t stop coughing een a place vhere making noise vill get us killed, I have no idea vhere ve are going to find zomeplace to be safe tonight, and I’m wery annoyed vith you for zhinking you know better zhan me vhat ees good for me!” Pasha snapped. “So unless you have zhe solution for any of zhese zhings, <i>do not talk to me right now</i>.” </p><p>Leonard knew when to keep his mouth shut. (He’d been married too long not to.) And Jesus, Pasha was right — Leonard had to trust that Pasha knew what he was doing with himself — and with Leonard. Trust just wasn’t his strong suit, not since Jocelyn. </p><p>Instead he set his hand on Pasha’s thigh and held on — and thought about the sick sixteen-year-old he’d carried in his arms and laid gently on the couch. The kid had been hot with fever, his freckled cheeks flushed, and much, much too thin in his cadet reds. The overall impression of frailty was shattered when Pasha had come to self-assured and commanding. </p><p>Pasha had the same flush on his cheeks now, but from the cold and damp. He coughed painfully into his elbow then shoved at the damp curls hanging across his forehead. The pod cape things were brilliant, but the frigid wind leached in. After the comment about his shoes, Leonard figured Pasha’s weren’t warm or waterproof. His feet had to be blocks of ice. </p><p>He listened to Pasha cough, feeling the tension it caused in his body through his thigh — Pasha needed Leonard’s care and support, not his self-loathing. Leonard began to feel ashamed of himself in an entirely different way. Which was, sadly, not a new experience. </p><p>He shouldn’t have succumbed to temptation in the first place. But he had. And now he had to live up to the obligation that was created the second he’d agreed to the affair. </p><p>Leonard could do better. He <i>would</i> do better. He glanced at the younger man, staring stonily out the windshield — he’d expected Leonard to panic about the age difference, about the difference in rank and power. Well, why wouldn’t he — the age difference was significant. Leonard had long considered it insurmountable. And though Leonard wasn’t in Pasha’s direct line of command, he outranked him by a lot. People who crossed that divide ended up regretting it. If he and Pasha weren’t facing death, stranded together on a strange planet, the barriers to a relationship <i>would</i> be insurmountable. </p><p>As long as they survived, Leonard vowed not to bother Pasha with his own insecurities again. They had too much else to think about. Like where they were going to stay tonight. The afternoon was wearing on, the sun, already obscured by the rainclouds, was traveling north towards nightfall more quickly than a jackrabbit chased by hounds. </p><p>Clearly, considering the holes in the hovertruck, they couldn’t stay in the vehicle. Could they find another utility cabin? Or a shed or shack or pod structure of any kind? Leonard shivered and pulled the pod cape more tightly around him. What were they going to do? </p><p>Up ahead, something glinted in the bit of sun that still shone. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Oh Leonard, you are all over the place. Pasha appears to know what he wants — not that we're privy to what's in his head — but you dither and deny and call yourself an idiot. At least you didn't wake up and immediately go stone cold asshole.</p><p>Not the most exciting chapter, but more adventures to come!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Loft</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>DAY FIVE: night</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What’s that up there.” Leonard pointed, squinting through the rain.  “Buildings?”</p><p>Pasha scanned the road. “I don’t know. Zhere vas nozhing on zhe map here.”</p><p>Of course, Pasha had not only memorized the map, he knew pretty much where they were. All Leonard knew was that they were on a road somewhere between Carson and a spaceport — and he only knew that much because of Pasha. “Maybe it’s new?”</p><p>“It vould still be on zhe map.” Pasha protested. “Eet ees an automatic update.”</p><p>Leonard took a look in the rear view mirror. The horizon was a foreboding black, the infected steadily following them. “Whatever it is, we’d better hurry.”</p><p>Pasha squeezed his hand and smiled wanly. “Ve have already lasted tventy hours longer zhan I expected.”</p><p>“Let’s go for twenty more, darlin’.” Leonard said, smiling. He lifted Pasha’s hand and kissed his battered knuckles. </p><p>Pasha sighed and leaned against Leonard’s body.</p><p>It took longer to get there than he expected. Dark clouds closed over the few rays of sun and the glinting stopped. They saw nothing for almost forty minutes — Leonard was afraid it had been on optical illusion or the reflection of something caught in a tree. Then in the distance, Leonard saw a structure — it still looked very far away, but only ten minutes later they were there, staring. </p><p>“Eet eez zome sort of energy farm.” Pasha posited. </p><p>There were dozens of rows of red cubes about a meter high, all with a reflective top.  </p><p>“Yeah, I think you’re right.” Leonard agreed. He was disappointed. He’d been hoping — really hoping — for shelter. It was only midafternoon, but the light was fading fast.</p><p> “Zhis ees no help.”</p><p>“Maybe there’s a shed or something.” Leonard said, trying to hide his desperation. “Keep looking.”</p><p>They almost missed it, the gray-blue pod house blended so well into the lavender trees in the rain. Pasha saw it first and shouted excitedly. Leonard braked, and before the truck had stopped, Pasha jumped out and went haring off towards it through the field.</p><p>Leonard grabbed the water bladder and sprinted after him — it was too dangerous here to go running off alone! He wished it wasn’t suicidal to holler at him.</p><p>Pasha was waiting in front of the pod house. At least he hadn’t gone in!</p><p>“Don’t do that!” Leonard wanted to shout but forced himself to keep his voice down. “You can’t run away like that! What were you thinking!?”</p><p>Pasha opened his mouth to argue but stopped when he looked into Leonard’s eyes. “You’re right.” He said. “I vill be more careful… but zhis is vhat ve need, yes? Ve can be safe here?”</p><p>It was the smallest pod house Leonard had seen yet. It almost looked like a doll house or a child’s playhouse if one were so tall. It had the graceful curves common to all the pod structures, with a smaller footprint, perhaps four meters around. The top was a dome, curving into a point, the whole structure taller than it was wide, its shape reminding Leonard of nothing so much as soft serve ice cream.</p><p>It had the abandoned air common to all of Omicron, but there were none of the blood spatters or claw marks, no evidence of the flight they’d seen elsewhere. It was, however beginning to disintegrate, the arch at the top starting to collapse. No one had lived here for a while.</p><p>“Yes.” Leonard told Pasha. They had no choice, they <i>had</i> to be safe here. “I guess it’s a caretaker’s cottage? Or it was used during setup…”</p><p>“Ve need to clear it.” Pasha said.</p><p>“Shouldn’t take long.” Leonard said wryly. </p><p>The door was unlocked, which Leonard thought was strange. It slid open smoothly when triggered and a light inside popped on automatically. They could see instantly the small room inside was clear. Stepping indoors was an immediate relief! Not only having a wall between them and the infected — which might be false comfort — but being out of the cold wind and rain was heavenly (they were already soaked just from the dash across the wet field). The air in the little house wasn’t warmer than it was outdoors, but it was still and dry — except for the sound of dripping. </p><p>“This’ll do.” Leonard said, setting the locks on the door.</p><p>Pasha checked the tiny bathroom. “Eet’s not dripping in here.” They both eyed the sleeping loft. Leonard strained to see the ceiling and made out the caved-in area where the dome had begun to shrivel. The dripping must be coming in there. They’d deal with it later.</p><p>Pasha swore. “Empty.” He said, peering at the replicator. “Vell, ve still have zhe delicious tooth cleaning lozenges.”</p><p>Leonard barked a laugh. “If that’s the bright side...” He reached for the younger man and kissed him, smiling when Pasha lit up. “We need to get dry and see if we can get it to warm up in here.” There was a lot they had to do, search the place for food and water — especially water, the bladder was almost empty — hang their clothes to dry, try and reinforce the door against assault, build a nest in the sleeping loft and stop up that damned dripping. Leonard spared a moment to be grateful that the only window was a skylight over the loft, too high for the infected to access.</p><p>He removed the pod cape — it was not wet, the rain either absorbed or repelled completely. Underneath his jacket was damp in front where rain had leaked inside the cape, but the sweater beneath was dry.</p><p>Leonard took Pasha’s pod cape from him and bundled it with his and set them on the little table. His warm coat was similarly damp, and Leonard unsealed it, checking that Pasha was dry inside. He was — it must be his feet that had him shivering then.</p><p>“Sit down.” He told the other man, nodding at the built-in bench. Pasha obliged and Leonard knelt and took off first one wet shoe and then the other, watching as each expelled rainwater onto the floor. He wanted nothing more than to open the door and pitch them as far as he could. But they had nothing else. Tomorrow, Pasha would be wearing the comfortable, waterproof boots. Leonard could deal with the flimsy shoes. If he were lucky, the truck’s charge would hold out all the way to the space station and he wouldn’t have to walk in them much.</p><p>He peeled the sodden socks off each foot and examined the wet, white, wrinkled skin of Pasha’s feet. “Any tingling or numbness?” He asked.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Good.” Leonard pulled the wooly sweater over his head, unsealed his coverall and pulled his arms from it, letting it hang from his hips. He pulled off his outer thermal shirt and used it to dry Pasha’s feet, then wrapped them in the shirt.</p><p>“Ees zhat necessary?”</p><p>“Yes. You need to keep them warm and dry tonight. Sit tight for now — it’s not like there’s a lot of room to move here anyway.” Leonard smiled sheepishly and kissed Pasha’s forehead. Pasha pulled him back and kissed him properly. </p><p>“For now.” He said.</p><p>Leonard chuckled. Crossing his fingers, he put the wet socks in the recycler, then diverted the matter to the replicator. He asked the replicator to make a pair of thick, warm socks. The addition of the water molecules gave the replicator more to work with, and Pasha’s new socks were heavy, wooly things that reached his knees.</p><p>“Wait until your feet really dry out before you put these on.” Leonard told him. “Last thing we need is to do anything that will cause you trouble walking.”</p><p>He watched Pasha swallow his protests. Leonard wished he had enough confidence to recycle the shoes and order up a new pair — but it would be too easy to end up worse off. He’d look through the replicator’s catalog later, to see if it had the pattern for a better pair. </p><p>Setting the shoes out to finish drying, Leonard began a systematic search for food. He started on the ground floor, searching in the cabinets, between the replicator and recycler, in the crevice between the recycler and the tiny closet, in the closet — were he found another roll of tooth cleaning lozenges abandoned on the floor — between the cushions of the built-in bench, under the little table, in the drawers of the wee bureau — where he found a bag of hard candies — in the bathroom, the medicine cabinet, the shelves and cubbies. Then he went up the ladder to the sleeping loft and searched under and around the pod mattress, and in the tiny drawers and cupboards fitted into the curved wall. There he found an empty hypo, a broken holo frame, and half of a protein bar.</p><p>He showed his findings to Pasha — the lozenges, candies and half protein bar. They each had a candy, sucking greedily on the fruit-flavored discs.</p><p>The hypo, holo frame, the bag that held the candy and wrapper of the protein bar Leonard put in the recycler, diverting the reclaimed atoms to the replicator. As hungry as he was, Leonard used it all to make water. He felt better after adding the three liters to the bladder. </p><p>Leonard sat down next to Pasha and wrapped his arms around the other man, loving the way they fit together, and the way Pasha turned his face up to be kissed. He tasted brightly of fruit. Leonard pushed another piece of candy into Pasha’s pretty mouth. He needed the calories. Then he sighed. “We should get ready for tonight.”</p><p>“Da.”</p><p>The table, the pod cushions, and the ladder to the loft were the only moveable furniture. As futile a gesture as it was, they moved the table in front of the door.</p><p>They carried all their belongings up to the sleeping loft, including their drying clothes and shoes, and brought the pod cushions for good measure. </p><p>They drew the ladder up after them and Leonard shoved the pod mattress over as far as it would go and lay the ladder beside it. Cautiously, he stood upright, careful not to bump his head on the curve of the dome. He reached up to the disintegrating bit and felt the rain coming in. </p><p>Swearing, Leonard began trying to manipulate the pod material.</p><p>“Let me.” Pasha said, stifling a cough. He had his multitool in his hand, and though he had to stretch more than Leonard, he was able to reach the shriveled area of the pod house. It reacted positively to his touch, gaining color. Pasha manipulated the material — something Leonard knew firsthand wasn’t easy — around the leak, using the tool to score it, folding the disintegrating part over on itself, creating a small pucker in the smooth lines of the dome. When he finally finished, he was rubbing his hands. </p><p>“Are they cramping?” Leonard asked.</p><p>“Just a leetle.”</p><p>Covering them with a pod capes, Leonard sat next to Pasha on the mattress and massaged his hands until the navigator was humming with pleasure and all but nodding off. He nudged Pasha to the inside of the mattress, against the wall — the infected would have to go through him to get to the younger man! Stripped down to their thermal underwear, the gray-blue mattress began to warm underneath them, and the pod capes contained the heat creating a small temperate nest in the chilled air.</p><p>They shared the half protein bar. It was stale and hard and made Leonard feel even hungrier, his stomach demanding food angrily. He ripped open the tooth cleaning lozenges and they each had one. It did nothing for his hunger, but his mouth tasted better.</p><p>He was sorely tempted to start tossing clothes into the recycler to turn into food. But Leonard resisted the idea — they would get to the spaceport tomorrow and they’d be fine with water and the candies until then. Chances were good that they would find a working replicator there. Hell, they were calling the Enterprise, they’d eat by the end of the day one way or another. They still needed the clothes. It would be ridiculous to succumb to hypothermia in sight of their goal!</p><p>To distract himself from his growling stomach, Leonard arranged the water bladder and the bag of candy in a secure spot at the foot of the mattress and covered it with their drying clothes. He pulled the ladder back from the edge, parallel to the mattress, and set up the pod cushions as a barrier, hiding their little nest. Even the glow strip wasn’t visible from the room below. </p><p>Returning to their heated pod, Leonard curled himself around Pasha. The younger man was beginning to feel much too thin, his ribs more prominent than his defined abs. He coughed more often now, and Leonard could hear it ripping at his lungs. </p><p>They just had to get to the spaceport! The truck had cut <i>days</i> off the journey! They would be there <i>tomorrow</i>! Or the day after, tops, if it was a longer walk than he thought. This was the home stretch!</p><p>He kissed the back of Pasha’s neck, stretching and letting his hands wander over the other man’s chest. “We should sleep.” He murmured.</p><p>“I am too keyed up.” Pasha whispered back.</p><p>“Mm. Yeah.” Leonard smiled into Pasha’s skin. “I know of a cure for that.”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“Mm-hm.”</p><p>Ees eet sex?”</p><p>“Mm-hm.”</p><p>“I vant you inside me again.” Pasha moaned, rubbing his ass back against Leonard’s groin.</p><p>Leonard huffed. “Always happy to oblige, darlin’. But we should switch it up, yeah?” One didn’t go from never having been fucked to taking it every night. Not without complications that they couldn’t afford on Omicron. “Let me take care of you.” He nuzzled Pasha’s neck, holding him tight to his chest and reached into his underwear to palm his already hardening cock. </p><p>Pasha moaned, and Leonard spared a second to wonder that this beautiful young man would even think of someone like him let alone desire him. He would never understand it, not even in the context of imminent death.</p><p>But he could accept it.</p><p>“Vhat about you, Leo?” Pasha sighed undulating his hips.</p><p>“Mmm… what about me?”</p><p>“I vant to take care of you, Lyonya.”</p><p>“You can do anything to me you want, darlin’. I’m easy.” </p><p>Pasha giggled. “You are <i>far</i> from easy, Leonard McCoy!” He rolled over in Leonard’s arms, so they were facing each other. “I’ve newer vorked so hard for anyone!” He kissed Leonard, lingeringly. “And still you try to run avay from me.” He tapped Leonard’s temple. “Een here.”</p><p>“I just want what’s best for you, Pasha.” Leonard said. “It’s hard to believe that could possibly be me.” There simply wasn’t anyone else on Omicron.</p><p>“You must let me decide vhat ees best for me.” Pasha flipped Leonard onto his back and sat on his hips, hands resting on Leonard’s shoulders. “And now, how should I take care of you?”</p><p>“Come here.” Leonard insisted, pulling Pasha down and kissing him. The display of aggression turned him on — he was hard against Pasha’s hip and could feel the younger man’s erection rubbing against his own through the fabric of their thermal underwear.</p><p>Leonard got a hand between them and shoved his underwear down, then Pasha’s, groaning when the velvet skin of their pricks met. He wrapped his big hand around both of them, jacking them together.</p><p>Pasha stopped biting his neck long enough to moan and say, “Ve need slick.”</p><p>Omicron Settlement wasn’t very interested in their needs. Leonard reminded himself that with three more liters of water and finding the candy they were <i>very</i> lucky. They were surviving. </p><p>Keeping his grip on Pasha’s pert ass with one hand, Leonard extricated his other from between them and pressed two fingers against Pasha’s lips. “We’ll have to make do, Pashenka.” He said.</p><p>Moaning, Pasha pulled Leonard’s fingers into his mouth and sucked on them sloppily. Jesus, Leonard wanted those lips around his cock! And when Pasha looked up at Leonard from under his eyelashes, he knew that Pasha knew how much he wanted it.</p><p>Pasha pulled off Leonard’s fingers with a pop and grinned hungrily. “Vait here.” He said with a wink and pushed himself down the bed to lay between Leonard’s legs. He took Leonard’s prick in hand and stroked it a few times, then bent his head and sucked the tip into his mouth.</p><p>“Ohhhh!” Leonard hadn’t meant to be so loud! He clapped a hand over his mouth. </p><p>Pasha giggled softly. He dug his tongue into the slit at the tip, tasting the arousal that dripped into his mouth. He bobbed lower, flattening his tongue and sucking, taking Leo’s cock as deep as he could without triggering his gag reflex. Leonard had been deep throated in the past, by men and women, but nothing had turned him on as much as Pavel Chekov taking him in his mouth, his cheeks hollowed, his large, gray eyes gazing coquettishly up at him as he sucked on Leonard’s cock.</p><p>Licking down the shaft, wetting it thoroughly, Pasha began jacking his prick in earnest with one hand, playing with his balls with the other, his mouth focusing enthusiastically on the glans. </p><p>“Pashenka….” Leonard dug his fingers into the pod mattress to keep himself from twining them in Pasha’s hair. Some people liked that — Leonard liked it — but he didn’t know if Pasha did. He worked very hard to keep himself from pushing up into Pasha’s mouth. Manners, he reminded himself, were important.</p><p>Pasha was squeezing his cock harder, bobbing faster, licking and sucking and yanking on his balls in just the right way! Leonard flailed, grabbing at Pasha’s shoulder. “I’m gonna… I’m gonna…” He warned.</p><p>Pulling his head back, Pasha jacked him hard and aimed Leonard’s cock at his open mouth, his full lips wet and glistening. And that did it! Leonard came, shooting into Pasha’s mouth, watching his come spray across his tongue, splash on his cheek and stubbly chin. He shuddered and moaned and shot again and again, toes curling, calves stretching, until he was released into laughter, all his muscles loose and lazy.</p><p>Laughing — he really couldn’t help it — he pulled Pasha up to lie next to him and kissed the come off his lips. The familiar bitter taste filled his mouth as he pushed Pasha onto his back and pressed him down into the mattress. Leonard could tell that he liked being manhandled. They’d have to have a conversation about how far he wanted to explore that because Leonard would certainly enjoy manhandling Pasha in quite a variety of ways.</p><p>But for now, he sucked his young lover off, opening his throat as he’d learned when he wasn’t much older than Pasha was now, and taking him to the root. Leonard took Pasha’s groping hands and set them firmly in his hair and had a great time letting Pasha fuck his throat. He was half hard again by the time they finished — Leonard might be old, but he wasn’t <i>dead</i>.</p><p>They flopped back on the pod mattress, kissing and laughing and holding hands. It wasn’t long before they fell into a satiated, exhausted sleep. </p><p>The glow strip, no longer sensing movement, slowly faded. </p><p>--</p><p>Leonard startled awake. He didn’t know how much later it was, but it was pitch dark, no light shone through the skylight above him. Beside him, Pasha coughed softly.</p><p>A thump sounded that Leonard felt vibrating through the entire pod house. Then another sound, a grating, shredding sound. </p><p><i>They</i> were here and <i>they</i> knew that Leonard and Pasha were here.</p><p>Another thump and Leonard heard the table shudder. They were trying to break down the door. And they were clawing at the pod house.</p><p>Carefully, trying not to disturb Pasha — the longer he slept the better — Leonard found his thermal underwear and pulled them on. Not that he was going anywhere or that the underwear offered any sort of protection. But it helped his mindset a little not being naked.</p><p>The thumping continued, and the clawing. Leonard lay still and waited, willing the sky to lighten. But he couldn’t even see a moon.</p><p><i>We’re warm</i>. He told himself, remembering how cold it had been in the treehouse. <i>And we’re up high</i>. The sleeping loft was a good three meters above the ground floor, out of reach. </p><p>Hopefully. Leonard guessed that if Pasha held the table still, he could stand on it and pull himself up into the loft — and vice versa. But none of the infected had climbed the ladder rungs affixed to the tree, so Leonard didn’t think these infected would climb either. If they did, well, they’d get an axe in the face. <i>And tomorrow we’ll get to the spaceport. We WILL get through the night</i>!</p><p>Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump!</p><p>“Leo?”</p><p>“Hey, darlin’. Lay back down, we’re safe up here.”</p><p>Thump!</p><p>“You don’t zhink zhey vill get in?”</p><p>“Oh, I’m pretty sure they will.” Leonard said, resigned. (Thump!) “Sooner or later. But they can’t get up here.”</p><p>“Tventy more hours? (Thump!)</p><p>“And then twenty more and we’re at the space port.” Leonard whispered.</p><p>Thump! Thump!</p><p>Pasha clung to him. “Do you love me, Leo? Eef you don’t, lie to me…”</p><p>Thump! </p><p>Leonard turned over to face the other man. “I will never lie to you, Pashenka.”</p><p>“Oh.” Pasha dropped his eyes sadly. (Thump!)</p><p>“I love you. I don’t have to lie to tell you that.” (Thump!) “You’re brilliant, and you’re gorgeous, and kind and accomplished (Thump!) and brave and crazy smart and stubborn and sexy and out of your damn mind… and I love you.” (Thump!) Leonard cupped Pasha’s cheek and kissed him.</p><p>Thump!</p><p>“No one has ewer said anyzhing so beautiful to me.”</p><p>Thump!</p><p>“’Cause you’re always out with science and engineering types.” Leonard grinned. (Thump!) “They wouldn’t know poetry if it bit ‘em on the ass.”</p><p>CRASH!</p><p>The light snapped on.</p><p>“They’re in.” Leonard hated feeling how Pasha trembled. He pet his hair and the soft skin on his shoulder and back, trying to soothe him. “It’s OK, darlin’. We just need to be as quiet as possible.” He breathed the words into his lover’s ear. “They won’t get up here. And if they try, they’re getting an axe in the teeth.” They listened to more crashing as the table was overturned and pushed haltingly across the floor.</p><p>Pasha nodded. “Ve should look.”</p><p>“You should stay here and muffle your coughs. Use this.” Leo handed him a thermal shirt. “I’m just going to have a peek between the cushions.” Pasha looked like he wanted to strangle the shirt, but he nodded agreement.</p><p>Leonard eased himself to the edge of the mattress. It still gave off heat, but without the pod capes over him, his skin prickled in goose bumps. There was more crashing as the blind infected tripped over the table and jerked into walls. Leonard had left all the cabinet doors open, the closet and the bathroom doors open and the infected were walking into them. He hoped the racket covered whatever noise they were making up in the loft.</p><p>The sight made him shudder. A half dozen or so people — or what once had been people — milled about below him. They crowded the small space, walking into the walls and each other, herky-jerking over the downed table, hitting their heads on the cupboard doors, or their shoulders on the closet door. Two of them were the extremely devolved stick figures they’d first seen on the mezzanine of Carson City Hall. They stood mostly still, moving their heads around, scanning with their enormous eyes. Four more looked like most others Leonard had seen, dark purple with bloody wounds where their noses, ears, breasts and genitalia had been. But one… one brought tears to Leonard’s eyes.</p><p>He was, or had been, a man. His skin was still olive colored, his hair thick, wavy brown. Unlike the others, he wore clothes — boots that looked like Leonard’s own, a deep gold coverall, stained liberally with blood, and a warm coat unsealed and torn by claws. His eyes were black and weeping blood, like his fellows. They must have come across the man as they’d marched after Leonard and Pasha and infected him.</p><p>They’d driven right past him.</p><p>Someone else on Leonard’s conscience. Someone whose name he’d never know, but whose face he’d never forget.</p><p>Maybe he made a sound then, expressing his despair, his regret, or maybe it was coincidence, but one of the stick figures swung its headlamp eyes up to the loft and seemed to stare directly at Leonard.</p><p>It jerked its way to the edge of the sleeping loft and stretched up its arms, claws extended. It could not reach. The others ignored it, continuing to mill around bouncing off each other and the walls. </p><p>Leonard felt sick.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Does McCoy realize he's planning for the future when he thinks about conversations he and Pasha should have about sex preferences? Probably not.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Detour</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>DAY SIX</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Leonard managed a fitful doze on and off through the rest of the night, but the noise of clacking teeth, scrabbling claws, and wet bodies smacking into walls kept waking him up. He knew Pasha slept a little — Leonard held him and pet him until he shuddered gently and relaxed. But the sky was still moonless and dark when one of the infected tripped loudly over the table and they both woke for good.</p><p>The night felt endless. But finally, the sky began to lighten infinitesimally. A ruddy moon traveled into view and violet, yellow and blue streaks reached the skylight, signaling sunrise. </p><p>The devolved infected were the last to leave. And Leonard knew they would not go far but wait in the shadows and follow along with them again — or worse, attack now that they’d caught up.</p><p>He couldn’t shake the vision of the olive-skinned man with the wavy brown hair and black eyes weeping blood. It could so easily be Leonard himself. <i>Or Pasha… </i></p><p>They roused themselves at dawn and dressed in the cramped sleeping loft — without the door, it was freezing in the little pod house. The mattress still gave off heat, and it was pleasant to sit on it while they pulled on their socks and sucked on hard candies, but Pasha was shivering by the time they finished. His cough was worse in the cold as well. Leonard tried not to show how stressed he was about it. He <i>itched</i> to whip up an efficacious drug cocktail and inject it into the younger man’s lovely neck. It felt so wrong to just let him get worse. </p><p>“You should wear these today.” Leonard said off-handedly, pushing his boots towards Pasha. “I’ll take the shoes.” Both pairs fit themselves to the wearer, so they were interchangeable.</p><p>“I don’t vant your boots, Leo.”</p><p>“Trust me, you do.” Leonard laughed. Pasha didn’t think it amusing, so he stopped. “Seriously, you had wet feet yesterday and we were in the truck most of the day. If it rains again, it’s my turn.”</p><p>“Zhat’s stupid.”</p><p>“But convincing, yes? Put the boots on.”</p><p>Pasha took the boots, but he stripped the new warm sock from his feet and handed them to Leonard. “You vill need zhese. Don’t argue vith me, Leo.”</p><p>Leonard held up his hands in surrender and took the socks. The socks were great. Still he tried not to look on enviously as Pasha put the boots on and sighed happily. They were <i>excellent</i> boots.</p><p>The shoes were fine. They supported his foot like an athletic shoe but offered no other protective feature. Leonard was glad to have the socks — he remembered Pasha’s blister from the first day.</p><p>That seemed like a year ago now.</p><p>Leonard sealed Pasha’s coat for him, straightening the collar and pressing kisses to his eager mouth. He strapped the water bladder to his own back, and they split the cache of candies and tooth cleaning lozenges between their pockets. Lowering the ladder, Leonard cautiously climbed down, holding his pod cape and a pod cushion in one hand and his prybar in the other, standing guard until Pasha climbed down the ladder. They took turns arranging the pod capes around themselves properly, and — with help from Pasha’s little multi-tool — Leonard cut slits in the pod cushion and slipped it on his arm like a shield. He felt pretty damned stupid, but it could block blood spray (and absorb it) and hold off claws for a short time, so Leonard guessed he was willing to feel stupid.</p><p>The two of them, decked in gray-blue pod capes from hood to ankle, holding pod cushions and wielding axe and prybar, started back across the field of red, reflective cubes to the road. Leonard wondered when his life had turned into a sword and sorcery novel — and when the God damned sorcerer was gonna show up and save them. <i>Jim</i>!</p><p>The stick-figure infected ambushed them in the field. </p><p>Minutes after they left the little pod house, as they tramped across the field of the mysterious meter high red cubes with reflective tops, just as Leonard was noting that his feet were already getting damp, walking through the wet grass, the stick figures came out of nowhere. Leonard and Pasha were surrounded.</p><p>And they attacked.</p><p>Pasha hit the closest one, smashing its head and hiding his face behind the cushion to avoid the spray of fluids. Leonard watched as it splattered — as if in slow motion — across the pod material of his cape and shield, hoping against hope that it was enough protection. </p><p>Then three of the stick figures were coming for him and he couldn’t watch Pasha any longer. Leonard shoved the first one back with the cushion and slammed the prybar into the second’s head, lifting the cushion to protect his face. He whirled around and hit the third in the neck just before it grabbed him — he felt the claws scraping along his pod cape — and managed to get a leg up to kick it in the torso. It fell to the ground. </p><p>The first was clacking its teeth next to his ear and Leonard almost didn’t get the cushion in the way before it bit. He smashed its head, but four more were directly behind it. And he’d lost track of Pasha. </p><p>They were going to die like this. <i>Pasha was going to die like this</i>!</p><p>Leonard couldn’t let that happen!</p><p>Sparing a hope that the red cubes wouldn’t electrocute him or irradiate him or lead to some other horribly painful death, Leonard, ducked down below the grasping claws and turned the prybar on the closest cube, smashing a corner and angling the reflective surface at the infected. </p><p>Shockingly, it stopped them in their tracks! They averted their unblinking eyes, shying away. </p><p>“Pasha!” Leonard yelled, heedless that he was giving the infected a homing beacon right to him. “The cubes, the mirrors!” Leonard scuttled to the next red cube and smashed a corner of its base, angling it across the field. “Pasha!” He cried, desperate to find him, desperate to know he hadn’t succumbed. </p><p>“I’m right here!” Pasha growled in his ear. “Keep going!” Together they sprinted to the next cube and brought its mirror down to shine into the infected as well. </p><p>Most of the stick figures were converging where they’d last heard Leonard yell, some wandering towards the sounds of the smashed base. Pasha circled and brought down a cube on the other side, so it pointed its mirror at them as well. Leonard, understanding the strategy, ran on to the next, and the next until they had the infected roughly circled in mirrors reflecting the sun at the devolved Humans. They would move in a direction until the sunlight burned their eyes, then they would shy back only to try another direction.</p><p>Eventually, they might find their way out. Or they might be trapped there until the sun went down. Either way, Leonard wanted to get far enough away that they could stop, and he could get a good look at Pasha. Had he been bitten? Clawed? Had any blood gotten on his skin? </p><p>They’d know for certain within two hours. </p><p>Leonard felt nauseated.</p><p>The forest preserve was agitated as they jogged to the road, but none of <i>these</i> deep-purple figures ventured out of the shadows. The road was a slim haven between two roiling masses of infection. It was unnerving. </p><p>Before they climbed into the truck, Leonard grabbed the young Russian, his stomach roiling with fear. “Pasha! Let me take a look at you.”</p><p>“Vhat for?”</p><p>“Splatter.” Leonard watched Pasha’s face go pale and he turned his head and coughed. They both reflexively checked the forests, but the shadows stayed in the trees.</p><p>“Vhat about you?”</p><p>“I’m fine.” Leonard assured him. The look Pasha gave him could have withered the crops. “Alright, alright, you should check me too.”</p><p>The blood on the pod material of Pasha’s cape and cushion was already being absorbed. Careful not to touch it, Leonard examined Pasha’s face, hands and the parts of his pantlegs and boots that were exposed. There was some gore on the boots. “There.” He pulled the container of disinfectant wipes and cleaned it off, careful not to get any on his hands. </p><p>Pasha examined him in turn, pointing out a spray of blood on a bit of pantleg that protruded from the cape, but found none on his hands or face. Leonard breathed a sigh of relief. They cleaned his pants, and then they both disinfected their hands and faces for good measure. “Let’s go.” Leonard said. </p><p>They drove down the road all morning. If Leonard didn’t know where it led, he would have sworn it went nowhere. On and on forever, a narrow ribbon of safe passage while the sun was up. </p><p>When the sun was high in the sky the truck sputtered and stopped humming and then coasted to a stop, its charge finally depleted. </p><p>Leonard sighed as they climbed out. It was overcast again.</p><p>Before they started walking, they had some water. They were rationing it, and just knowing he couldn’t have more made Leonard thirsty. They each had a piece of the candy and Leonard strapped the bladder onto his back and kissed Pasha, distracting them both from their thirst and hunger. They rested their foreheads together for a moment — the lack of sleep was catching up with Leonard. </p><p>“I lowe you too, Leo.” Pasha whispered. </p><p>Leonard smiled. He knew it looked tired. “Thank you for saying it.” He said. </p><p>“I am not just saying eet. I mean eet. I lowe you.”</p><p>It was this place, this situation. Pasha <i>did</i> love him right now. It brought tears to Leonard’s eyes, tears of gratitude. Just like Pasha, he didn’t want to die without knowing love, <i>real</i> love. And this love was more real than any he’d ever know. “That’s wonderful.” He mumbled. “You’re wonderful.”</p><p>Pasha’s smile glowed like the bright blue-white sun. </p><p>-- </p><p>The rain began in earnest an hour later. Leonard’s feet were soaked almost immediately and before long, his legs were damp to the knee. A deep V of wetness traveled down his front where the rain leaked inside the cape at his neck. It was bitterly cold and miserable. </p><p>Despite his discomfort, Leonard was glad he’d switched footwear — Pasha’s cough was worse, deep and painful, sounding like it was rending his lungs into pieces.</p><p>Within fifteen minutes in the rain, Leonard gave Pasha his knit hat, tucking it under the hood of the pod cape and pulling it down over his ears. He refused to hear Pasha’s protests — yeah, he was colder and more wretched without the hat, but the younger man needed it more. Leonard could deal with the physical misery better than the emotional misery of hearing Pasha suffering and not doing everything he could to help.</p><p>They’d both shoved their weapons (such as they were) through their belts and carried their cushion shields — Leonard discovered it kept his hand warm, so he didn’t mind it no matter how stupid it looked. They held hands, fingers interlaced, Pasha holding on like he was afraid Leonard would disappear if he let go even a little.</p><p>Leonard discovered he didn’t really mind that either.</p><p>It was going to be rough when they got back to the Enterprise. He’d given the kid his heart — it had been the right thing to do under the circumstances — but it was going to hurt like hell when Chekov went back to courting pretty girls in the rec room and he returned to his office and his bottle of bourbon. </p><p>At least he’d have the bourbon.</p><p>A warbling cry sounded — it was shocking how loud the voice was — and continued until Leonard was certain it was language. </p><p><i>Uhura should hear this</i>. He thought.</p><p>Babyish laughter shrilled in the frigid air. Leonard and Pasha exchanged a horrified look — who was being so noisy!? Didn’t they know better?</p><p>Pasha yanked the axe from his belt. Hoping the truck had put them well ahead of the bulk of the infected, Leonard eyed the forest warily. He reached for the prybar.</p><p>A child exploded from the underbrush at the side of the road, his screech of delight sounding not unlike the warbling. </p><p><i>He was not infected</i>!</p><p>They had to keep him quiet!</p><p>Before the boy could register the two men in the road, Doctor McCoy scooped him up, startling the child into silence. He generally got on well with babies, he had been a favorite in the pediatric ward at Emory. It was the ones he had to talk to that gave him trouble.</p><p>Up close McCoy saw that the tot wasn’t Human, at least not fully, a fine coat of fur covering every inch of exposed skin. His eyes were round and green with a rectangular pupil.</p><p>The child opened his mouth, drawing in a stuttering breath, readying himself to wail, and McCoy popped one of the fruity hard candies into his mouth. It was the child’s turn to look shocked, his expression crumpling, then his eyes opening wide as the sweetness registered on his tongue. He began to suck the candy, regarding McCoy suspiciously.</p><p>“Valllloohaaaaah!” A tall, slim figure struggled through the weeds several meters ahead of them — clearly a relative of the child, with her bright green eyes and a longer, darker pelt showing above her blue and violet tunic. She gasped when she saw the two men — one with an axe, the other with the child. Her eyes widened and she hissed, her fur puffing out.</p><p>McCoy heard more crashing in the forest. With a look at Chekov, he strode over to the woman — who began to warble loudly — he shoved the child into her arms, and grabbed her by the elbow, hard.</p><p>“Shut up!” He husked in her ear.</p><p>“What?” She asked loudly in Standard. “Who are you? Why does—"</p><p>McCoy clapped his hand over her mouth. “I said shut up.” He whispered. “Be quiet! Noise attracts them!”</p><p>“Who?” She whispered behind his hand.</p><p>“Listen.” He said. The crashing was growing louder, and it was coming from several directions now. </p><p>Chekov ran up. “We better go! There’s too many.”</p><p>McCoy nodded. “The infected.” He told the woman. “Come with us.”</p><p>She frowned at him but when McCoy began to run after Pasha, she followed. “Why does he have an axe?” She asked.</p><p>“Self-defense.”</p><p>“Why are you wearing a flap of a pod house?”</p><p>McCoy gave her an aggravated look. “Because it’s cold!” And wet, and it was good protection, but he didn’t have the breath to say it. </p><p>She, however, appeared to have no problem keeping up and questioning them without pausing for air.</p><p>She and the child were <i>Keiso</i>. The word fell into McCoy’s stressed and frightened brain with a faint fanfare of surprise. He had only read about them — he could picture their entry in the Xenopedia.</p><p>
  <i>KEISO</i><br/>
<i> Humanoid | Mammalian | Genders: Mar (female), Pau (modified androgynous), Din (neuter)   |  Diet: Vegetarian </i><br/>
<i> Origin: IRB- 43860, aka Bekos, satellite moon of Argelus Prime </i><br/>
<i> Keiso can be recognized by a felinoid pelt in solid colors ranging from white to dark brown, eyes that are either green, amber or orange with a rectangular pupil, and large, flat teeth. Bekos, their homeworld, is densely forested and the Keiso are reclusive, living in small, self-sufficient extended family units that only meet with other groups three times per standard year, on average, for trade, gossip and mating rituals. Keiso have three genders; mar, that bear live young, pau, that through intercourse fertilizes the mar’s egg and then after the infant is born, nurtures it for additional months within a marsupial-like pouch, and din, a neuter gender that acts as primary food manager and protector. The genders cannot be discerned by secondary characteristics and all use she/her pronouns. The eldest mar is usually, but not exclusively, spokesperson or leader of the family group. They farm, keep livestock and gather a variety of vegetarian foods but little else is known of their customs and day-to-day life. They are rarely seen off Bekos, and only in environments where they can replicate the conditions of their home forest. Intelligent and athletic they have a good, if distant relationship with the Argelians and were admitted to the Federation along with Argelus as a secondary species. </i>
</p><p>McCoy noticed her fur shed the rainwater very efficiently. He bet it was warm too — her tunic was a medium-weight homespun material that, he realized, blended in with the forest perfectly. It was made for camouflage not warmth. The child was also dressed in such a way that if he — no <i>she</i> — stood still and quiet, she would not be seen.</p><p>The click-clack of infected sounded much nearer than McCoy wanted. The Keiso looked back and saw the deep purple figure coming at them, claws raised and teeth snapping. She let out a frightened shriek, which turned the poor creature’s attention on her.</p><p>The child in her arms felt her fear — either through the shriek or the tension in her body or the way the adult’s arms tightened around her (or all three) and she began to wail.</p><p>McCoy swore. He yanked the prybar from his belt and as the infected — a young teen he thought, or a very small woman — came upon them, he shoved the woman and child behind him and swung the heavy metallic bar at the infected kid’s head. It connected and reflexively McCoy shielded his face from the spatter of blood and gore with his cushion shield.</p><p>The Keiso retched and McCoy wondered when he’d stopped needing to throw up when confronted by the horror and pathos of an infected person — of crushing an infected person’s skull. But then Pasha grabbed his arm.</p><p>“Leo!”</p><p>McCoy turned. Another infected had burst from the forest beside them. He was big — taller and broader than most men, with a head like a bullet and simply massive arms and shoulders. He would have been fearsome before, but as a black-eyed ghoul with skin the color of the darkest bruise he was a nightmare made flesh. </p><p>Pasha pulled McCoy from its grasp so forcefully, McCoy lost his footing and stumbled, landing on his butt on the wet pavement. Before he could scrabble to his feet, the big infected man grabbed the Keiso, his claws sinking into her flesh. She screamed and tried to shelter the child as the big man sunk his rows of teeth into her shoulder.</p><p>The axe came down, stoving in the side of the man’s head — yet still his teeth held onto the Kieso’s shoulder. Chekov swung again, pulping the bullet head. The big infected dropped to the ground — but more were coming!</p><p>Chekov bent over, a coughing fit wracking his body.</p><p><i>Dammit</i>!</p><p>Taking the wailing child from the Kieso’s arm and settling her on his hip, McCoy grabbed the adult on her unbitten side. “Run!” He said. “We have to run! Pasha!”</p><p>She blinked, and her eyes focused on the Doctor. He was already dragging her forwards when she began to participate, running beside him, Chekov bringing up the rear, trying to catch his breath. </p><p>“Is that the virus? The virus they were talking about on the comms?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Am I infected now?”</p><p>McCoy looked at her stricken face, looked at how her eyes kept searching for the child. “Yes.”</p><p>“Am I… am I going to become like them?” She gasped. Blood flowed freely down her back and arm, soaking her tunic. </p><p>“I don’t know.” McCoy admitted, panting as they ran. “Some… some species are immune.” The motion seemed to soothe the child in his arms and her wails subsided to soft hiccupping mewls. There were three infected in the road now (two of them children) with a bead on them. </p><p>The Kieso stopped abruptly, bent over and threw up.</p><p>McCoy swore — but they couldn’t run forever and there was no shelter anywhere. “Pasha.” He said. He was still holding the tot — Leonard felt desperate! He couldn’t leave Pasha to face the three alone — a coughing fit at the wrong moment and it would all be over — but he had to protect the child!</p><p>“I can…” The Kieso said. “I can… take her.”</p><p>Glancing at the progress of the infected, McCoy set the child on her feet and placed her hand in the adult’s, on her unbitten side. “Don’t let any of the blood get on her — don’t let <i>any</i> fluids get on her.” He indicated his own mouth to illustrate his meaning: <i>don’t kiss the child</i>.</p><p>She nodded, tears forming in her eyes. “Watch the tears. I’m sorry.” McCoy said hurriedly. He rushed to Pasha’s side just as the first of the infected was approaching.</p><p>The infected children weren’t difficult to dispatch… not physically anyway. Emotionally, it ripped at Leonard to crush a child’s skull and he felt the sobs welling in his chest. His guilt was heavier with every swing of the prybar.</p><p>The third… McCoy wondered if she were the children’s mother. She was the right age. He killed her knowing that he would never know for sure, but that in his heart he would always be certain that they had been a family. The big man could have been their father, the teen their older child. It would make sense out here where almost no one lived…</p><p>“Leo… Leo?” Pasha shook him gently, examining his face. “Looks like you’re clear.”</p><p>McCoy nodded his head, then let it rest against the younger man’s. Leonard was so completely worn out, so exhausted from killing people, crushing their skulls… crushing children’s skulls…</p><p>“I know… I know, Leo…” It wasn’t until Pasha said that that Leonard realized the guilty, bitter sobs had found their way out. He swallowed them down. He was fine. <i>He was fine</i>.</p><p>“The kid.” Leonard said, and Pasha nodded, his breath ripping at his lungs now even when he wasn’t coughing.</p><p>Turning back to the Kieso pair, Leonard knelt and took hold of the crying tot around the waist. The adult was holding her by the hand at arm’s length, so she couldn’t get close enough to come in contact with her blood or her tears, both of which were copious. She was cooing at the child, who held her arm out, wanting to be picked up.</p><p>“How long do I have?” She asked. “A week? A few days?”</p><p>McCoy swallowed. “If you’re susceptible an hour or two… a day at the most.”</p><p>She looked up in alarm. “An hour! I have to take Valohah home…” She collapsed, sitting on the road with her head in her lap, still holding the child’s hand, still keeping her at arm’s length.</p><p>Leonard looked at Pasha. He desperately wanted to get to the spaceport — and they were on track to get there before dark! If they detoured to the Kieso’s outpost, not only would they lose at least a day, but he had no idea where they’d shelter overnight.</p><p>But… but Leonard couldn’t have this baby on his conscience too. He couldn’t leave Valohah on the side of the road with her mother. He couldn’t even take Valohah with him to the spaceport, not while there was a chance of reuniting her with her family. <i>And</i> warning her family about the oncoming swarm while they were still uninfected was not only decent, but his duty as a doctor and as a Starfleet officer.</p><p>“Ve vill help you.” Pasha said, without hesitation. “Ve vill make certain zhat Walohah gets to your family… eef you show us zhe vay.” </p><p>Leonard was grateful that Pasha not only understood but agreed. Jocelyn would have thrown a fit, insisting they could take Valohah with them and return her later. Leonard realized the tension in his jaw and shoulders was from his anticipation of a fight that he’d never have to have with Pasha. The younger man would never understand how incredibly wonderful that was.</p><p>The Kieso looked up, the tears streaking down her damp fur as her blood very might well soon. Her green eyes took on a resolve and she nodded. “Yes.” She said. “Thank you. We should hurry.”</p><p>McCoy picked the child up and handed her to Pasha, then helped the Kieso to her feet. “I’m Doctor Leonard McCoy.” He said. “And this is Lieutenant Pavel Chekov. Lead the way.”</p><p>“Starfleet.” She said. “Good. I’m Puuhoha… are you familiar with my species, Doctor?”</p><p>“Kieso.” McCoy confirmed. “You, my dear, are the first Kieso I’ve had the honor to meet. I wish it were under better circumstances.”</p><p>She smiled sadly, her eyes straying to the child. “Through here.” Puuhoha held back the underbrush and guided them into the forest. She picked her way through the weedy brush effortlessly, McCoy and Chekov less so. They’d been so cognizant of staying quiet, the noise was magnified in his ears. Leonard felt like a bull in a china shop. They had to stay vigilant for other infected that may inhabit the forest. </p><p>Pasha’s coughing would bring them almost as fast as the child’s shrieking.</p><p>Farther into the trees, the underbrush subsided, and the tree canopy cut the cold drizzle to intermittent drips. They moved more quickly, though McCoy couldn’t discern a path. Puuhoha knew where she was going.</p><p>He wished he could treat the bite on her shoulder — and the deep wounds where the claws had dug in and torn her open. But McCoy knew that even if he did have any of the drugs or bandages or equipment it was too dangerous. The best he could’ve done would be a painkiller, and he doubted she’d accept it. </p><p>After twenty minutes or so, they were surprised by an infected standing up suddenly and reaching for them. McCoy’s heart almost stopped — and Chekov had a fit of shocked coughing — until they realized it was caught in a thicket of lavender saplings. While it was trying to extricate itself, Puuhoha stopped and stared. “Rim.” She said sadly. “Rim el-Mansour. She worked in the forestry service.” Rim click-clacked her teeth and tried to walk through a sapling, flailing her arms. “This is what I will become?”</p><p>“If you’re susceptible, yes.” McCoy told her. “If you let it go that far.”</p><p>Puuhoha stared, understanding his meaning. “I will not. Come.” She said and strode off through the trees. </p><p>With a last look at poor Rim el-Mansour, trapped in the saplings, McCoy urged Pasha on before him and followed.</p><p>The child had begun to fuss again. Pasha shifted her from arm to arm, his breath husking wetly.</p><p>“Let me carry her for a while.” McCoy said. “I remember how heavy they get at that age.”</p><p>Puuhoha regarded him thoughtfully as she watched the men pass the child from one to the other. “You have children?”</p><p>“Just one. She’s on Earth with her mother.” He dandled the Kieso child who stopped fussing to stare at him in fascination.</p><p>“But your mate is here.” She said, looking at Chekov. “I thought Humans mated in pairs.”</p><p>“Oh! Er... we’re uhm...” McCoy looked at Pasha for help, but his expression was blank. “Ahem, I mean... why do you say that?”</p><p>“I have a nose.”</p><p>“Oh. Right.” McCoy reached for Pasha’s hand. “It’s... uh... new?” He said. “Uhm... Pasha?”</p><p>“Mates…” Chekov said, tasting the word.</p><p>“Humans don’t mate for life?” Puuhoha asked.</p><p>“No.” McCoy said. “I mean, some do.”</p><p>“My parents are togezher.” Chekov volunteered.</p><p>“But some of us aren’t so lucky.” McCoy told her. “My daughter lives with my ex-wife.”</p><p>“And now you have taken another mate.” The Kieso said. “That is good. People shouldn’t be alone.”</p><p>“Uh… are you mated? My nose isn’t good enough to know one way or the other.”</p><p>Puuhoha regarded him over her good shoulder. “Yes. You will meet my mates, Nararoh and Ho’oooh. Valohah is ours.”</p><p>“Are there others in your family group?”</p><p>“Yes. Ho’oooh’s parents and Nararoh’s parents, Naroroh’s sister and her mates.”</p><p>“And none of you have seen the pandemic?”</p><p>“No. We don’t...  we don’t... pay much attention to the Settlement. We have our charter, our bit of Omicron. We don’t need anything else.” Puuhoha said. “Except I like to visit our neighbors... no one else feels the call to wander outside our borders... not like I do.” She stifled a sob. “It has killed me.”</p><p>“You don’t know that yet.” McCoy countered.</p><p>She looked at him with such anguish... but her eyes were drawn to Valohah, resting in his arms. “Bringing her... what was I thinking?”</p><p>“You were thinking that you’d show off your little one to your friends. That she could have new playmates. That you could share something special with her.”</p><p>Puuhoha’s anguish didn’t lessen, but she nodded thoughtfully and quickened her pace.</p><p>They walked in silence under the violet canopy. McCoy found it difficult to keep up with Puuhoha, carry the child — who was beginning to fall asleep against his shoulder — and stay vigilant for infected. It was dark in the forest — perfect for the light-sensitive creatures. By this time tomorrow, would these trees be crowded with the dark, bloody bodies that were following them from Carson? Would they be here by the time they made their way back to the road?</p><p>“Here.” the Kieso gestured. She took hold of a branch of a seemingly impenetrable bramble and pulled it back, revealing a path. Protecting the head of the child, McCoy ducked and made his way through the bramble. He found himself on a small, rocky beach on the bank of a wide river. Chekov slipped through after him and looked around.</p><p>“I vould newer know zhis vas here.”</p><p>“I think that’s the idea.” </p><p>“See the stones?” Puuhoha said waving her hand at the river. “They are firmly anchored. You can walk across. My family is on the other side.”</p><p>McCoy looked dubiously at the flat stones that zagged across the water. They appeared to be extremely widely set. “Oh hell no.” He muttered under his breath.</p><p>“It is the way.” Puuhoha insisted.</p><p>“Carrying zhe baby?” Chekov asked. “Nyet, Leo. I vill go and bring someone back.”</p><p>Puuhoha shook her head. “You can’t go alone, they won’t... You must have her with you.”</p><p>“You’re not going.” McCoy wasn’t surprised.</p><p>“No. Ask them to send Yuhoohuu to me. No one else. That’s important — Yuhoohuu, <i>no one else.</i>”</p><p>McCoy looked at her, how she held herself, how she looked at her child. “How do you feel?” </p><p>“It burns.” She said through gritted teeth. “It’s burning me up… soon… I’m afraid it will consume me entirely.” Puuhoha bent, clutching her stomach and panted. “Take Valohah across quickly — she shouldn’t see this. Send Yuhoohuu.”</p><p> Nodding, McCoy looked at the wide, swift river, then at Pasha, trying to stifle his cough. </p><p>“You go first.” Pasha told him. “I vill be right behind eef somezhing happens.”</p><p>Wanting to protest (he was a doctor, dammit, not some goddamned daredevil!), McCoy took one last look at the Kieso, adjusted his hold on the child, and leapt to the closest stone.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The first uninfected people they've met since Galbraith Station. Of course they have to take the detour, but how disappointing to turn away from the spacestation when they're so close! Next Chapter, the Kieso compound.</p><p>Will the whole Kieso crew come with them? Or will they refuse to leave the forest? More importantly, will they feed McCoy and Chekov or blame them for what happened to Puuhoha and toss them out on their ears? So many questions.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. The Kieso</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>DAY SIX: night</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Yuhoohuu was a tall, whip thin Kieso with pale tan fur, and orange eyes. A jagged scar showed pink through the downy fur on her cheek. She wasn’t the first Kieso they’d met across the river, that was a shorter, rounder Kieso with tawny fur harvesting fungi from the side of a blue tree. She shrieked in surprise when she saw the two bedraggled Humans carrying the Kieso baby, then she hissed, her fur standing on end, her head puffing to almost twice the size. </p><p>“Where is Puuhoha!?” She demanded, eyeing Chekov’s axe warily. </p><p>“She’s just on the other side of the river.” McCoy said soothingly, trying to look non-threatening. “She sent Valohah over with us.” </p><p>“Give her to me!”</p><p>“OK… yeah…” McCoy handed the sleeping child over to the Kieso. Valohah woke and fussed half-heartedly. </p><p>She sniffed the child. “Puuhoha is hurt.” It was not a question — there was no other reason she would have sent strangers across the river with Valohah. </p><p>“She’s sick and very contagious.” McCoy confirmed. “She doesn’t want any of you to catch it. She asked for Yuhoohuu.” </p><p>The small Kieso gave them a strange look. “Wait here.” She said tersely, shouldering her basket of fungi. “Don’t move!” </p><p>They loitered in the forest, the wet dripping down from the canopy, the chill seeping into McCoy’s bones. He could see that Pasha was cold too, and his breath whistled painfully in and out of his thin chest. “Come here.” He said. Leonard pulled the younger man close, inserting his arms under the pod cape and holding Pasha against his chest. He could feel the tension in the too-thin body. </p><p>“Do you zhink zhere are infected here?” Pasha husked. </p><p>“I don’t.” Leonard said. “Puuhoha would have been more cautious if she’d seen them before.” </p><p>“Zhat’s true.” Leonard felt some of the tension leech from Pasha’s delicate frame. He kissed the young man’s ivory forehead, damp with the cold rain that had plagued them for hours. “Vhere are ve going to stay tonight?” Pasha whispered. “She didn’t seem too friendly.” </p><p>“We’ll find a place.” Leonard assured him, more confidently than he had any right to sound — he had no idea where they would find a safe place to hole up. “Maybe… uh… maybe we can borrow a boat… that river goes towards the space station, doesn’t it?” </p><p>“More or less.” Pasha said. “It vould take us off zhe road.” </p><p>“The infected wouldn’t be able to follow us on the river.”</p><p>“Zhat vould be wery good.”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Leo?”</p><p>“Hmmm?”</p><p>“Ees eet ok… zhat even zhough ve are here… zhat terrible zhings are happening… zhat ve are vorried all zhe time… ees eet ok zhat I am… I am <i>happy</i> zhat ve are togezher?” </p><p>Leonard felt like he’d been punched in the solar plexus. He fought for oxygen for a moment. “I… I think any happiness that you — that either of us… that <i>we</i>… can find in this <i>nightmare</i> is ok. It’s more than ok, Pashenka, it’s a damned miracle.” </p><p>Pasha snuggled closer, his cold nose pressing into Leonard’s neck. “You make me so happy, Leo.” He murmured. </p><p>“You make me pretty happy too.” Leonard said gruffly. </p><p>A whistle sounded and Kieso stepped out from the trees all around them. Two of them had Argelian blasters in hand, and all of them had long knives in sheaths on their belts. Leonard stepped in front of Pasha. </p><p>“Leo…” He protested softly. </p><p>“Humor me.” Leonard muttered back fiercely. </p><p>One of the Kieso stepped forward. She was round and soft looking in her blue tunic, her dark fur beginning to gray. “Please put your weapons on the ground.” She said sharply. </p><p>McCoy nodded and slowly pulled the Prybar from his belt. He’d rinsed it off in the river, but still wasn’t keen to touch the business end with his bare hands. He set it gently on the ground as Pasha laid down his axe. </p><p>“Where is Puuhoha?”</p><p>“On the other side of the river.” McCoy told her. “She chose to stay there because she’s been infected with the Zed-56-O.S. virus, and she didn’t want to spread it to you.” </p><p>“You gave her this virus?” </p><p>“What? No.” McCoy frowned. “What do you know about the virus?” </p><p>The older Kieso shrugged. “It has swept through the Human population of Omicron. There were no Humans here before <i>you</i> came.” </p><p>“We aren’t carriers.” McCoy told her. “We’ve been doing everything we can to avoid infection. We tried to help Puuhoha.” He explained about the noise attracting the infected, about how the virus changed the infected Humans, about the big infected man grabbing her before they could stop him. “We don’t know what effect the virus will have on Kieso.” McCoy said. “You aren’t closely related to Humans…” </p><p>The Kieso spokesperson scoffed. </p><p>“But you’re closer to Argelians than you appear and Argelian illnesses have made the leap to Humans… I hope you’re immune for Puuhoha’s sake. But after seeing what the virus does, she wouldn’t take the chance of infecting any of you.” </p><p>“You know a lot about us for a stranger.”</p><p>“I’m a doctor.” McCoy told her. “Doctor Leonard McCoy of the starship Enterprise. I’ve worked with many species, though Puuhoha and Valohah are the first Kieso I’ve met.” </p><p>“If you’re a doctor, why didn’t you treat her?”</p><p>McCoy held up his hands helplessly. “There is no treatment. I’ve seen the research… no one has had any success at treating the virus, let alone curing it. There’s no vaccine. It just… spreads.” </p><p>“We must go see Puuhoha ourselves.”</p><p>“You can’t.” McCoy said. “I mean… you shouldn’t. She asked for Yuhoohuu. She said no one else, just Yuhoohuu.” </p><p>That inspired a lot of warbling discussion among the Kieso. Some sounded upset, even outraged. Leonard took Pasha’s hand while they argued, exchanging a worried glance. It was getting late — with the overcast sky, it was as dark as dusk already. It was too cold to spend the night outdoors, even if they could find a place secure from the infected. It didn’t seem likely that the Kieso would spare much sympathy for their plight. He wondered if they had boats… or a shed…</p><p>And Puuhoha didn’t have much time left. </p><p>“You, Doctor.” The older Kieso pointed at McCoy — and he realized their conversation had died out. “Will go with Yuhoohuu to see Puuhoha. Your mate will stay here with us.” </p><p>“Chekov.” McCoy told her. “This is Lieutenant Chekov.” </p><p>“They will stay with us.”</p><p>McCoy sighed. At least Pasha would be safe — he was 90 percent certain the Kieso wouldn’t harm them, not purposefully. “Ok, I’ll go.” He agreed. </p><p>“Leo!” </p><p>“I’ll be fine.” He assured Pasha. Leonard slipped off the rucksack he was wearing — the water bladder only a quarter full, and the disinfectant wipes — and handed it to the younger man. He tried to smile encouragingly. “Our hosts will take good care of you until I get back.” </p><p>“I am not vorried about me.”</p><p>“I’ll be fine.” McCoy repeated. </p><p>The older Kieso gestured and a tall, slim Kieso stepped forwards — one of the ones holding a blaster. “This is Yuhoohuu.” She was the only one that looked like she could handle herself in a fight. The only one with a knife in her boot as well as on her belt. </p><p>“Let’s go.” Yuhoohuu said. When she spoke, her skin pulled and the scar on her face flashed bright pink. </p><p>McCoy nodded… but hesitated, looking down at the prybar, his hands held open in silent appeal. </p><p>“No weapons.” Yuhoohuu told him, holstering her blaster. </p><p>“Fine.” McCoy muttered under his breath. “Might as well walk into the lion’s den while I’m at it.” </p><p>“Vait…” Pasha grabbed his hands. “Be safe, Leo.” He whispered and kissed Leonard hard on the mouth. “Come back to me.” </p><p>Leonard forced a smile. “I will, darlin’. I will.” </p><p>McCoy could hear Pasha coughing as Yuhoohuu led him through the forest, several of the other Kieso trailing after them. It was a different way than they had come, emerging by the stepping-stone bridge more quickly. He could just make out Puuhoha on the far shore, curled up in a corner of the small beach. Abruptly McCoy was terrified to go back, certain that he would find her black-eyed and bloody. She would grab him and bite him the moment he leapt to shore. </p><p>“If the virus has manifested,” he said to Yuhoohuu. “She won’t be herself anymore. She won’t talk, she’ll try to infect you. No matter what, you cannot let her touch you. The virus is virulently contagious.” </p><p>“How will I know if the virus has taken her?”</p><p>“You’ll know. Her eyes will be black, and there will be trails of bloody tears down her face.” He drew a line down his cheek in illustration. </p><p>Yuhoohuu bit her lip with her broad flat teeth and her fur puffed out around her head. “If this has happened, if the virus has taken her, will she infect you?” </p><p>“She’ll try.” McCoy told the Kieso. “On that beach, she might succeed. She’ll do the same to you.” </p><p>Yuhoohuu pulled something round and flat from her belt. “Here.” She said twisting it. One side lit up and she slipped it onto her hand by a strap on the other side. She handed it to McCoy. “You’ll need this to see the stones.” She pulled a second light out for herself. “I’ll go first, we can call to her from the river.” </p><p> McCoy nodded, grateful for her caution. </p><p> A slender, tawny Kieso, one of the several who had accompanied them, warbled roughly. Yuhoohuu turned to her and touched her shoulder. She said something short and firm and the tawny Kieso nodded reluctantly. She took a cloth out of her shoulder bag and handed it to Yuhoohuu with a soft warble. With a hand gesture, Yuhoohuu took the cloth and tucked it securely inside her tunic. The tawny Kieso cut resentful eyes at McCoy. </p><p>Tapping McCoy, Yuhoohuu jumped easily to the first rock in the river and he watched her as her tunic began to disappear in the dimness. “Here goes nothin’.” He muttered, spotting the first stone with the hand lamp and leaping. </p><p>As he’d done on the way over — with Valohah in his arms! — McCoy focused only on the stones, looking only where he wanted his feet to land, not at the river where he definitely <i>didn’t</i> want his feet to go. He stopped on the penultimate stone, one behind Yuhoohuu.</p><p>The tall Kieso was warbling softly to Puuhoha, calling her name. McCoy waited for her to come at them — could he turn around quickly enough? He was gonna end up face-first in the river before this was over! </p><p>But Puuhoha just lifted her head, stirring slightly, and warbled back in a strained voice. </p><p>Yuhoohuu looked at McCoy. “Don’t touch her.” He reminded the Kieso. “And don’t let her touch you.” </p><p>Nodding, Yuhoohuu hopped lightly onto the rocky beach. McCoy carefully followed cursing the wet shoes and wishing he had the boots. Yuhoohuu’s hand lamp danced over Puuhoha’s prone form but when it reached her face, Puuhoha hissed and turned away. It had been enough, though, for McCoy to see her eyes — there were milky and rimmed with red. </p><p>Yuhoohuu stepped towards the other Kieso and McCoy held her back. “Don’t touch her.” He said again. “She doesn’t want to infect you. There’s nothing we can do for her.” </p><p>“Then what am I here for? If I can’t take her home and I can’t comfort her?” </p><p>“You can give her peace.” McCoy said softly. </p><p>He saw that Yuhoohuu understood — that she’d always understood. After a moment, she began to coo softly. It sounded to McCoy like a song. Puuhoha laid her head down on her hands and listened, her body relaxing. The large pale moon rose, and in its light, he could see her weeping. She said something, her voice scratchy and soft, barely a warble at all. Yuhoohuu drew her blaster. </p><p>Abruptly, Puuhoha pushed herself to her feet, her face turned to Yuhoohuu, and clacked her teeth. Yuhoohuu shot her with the blaster, a single head shot, and she dropped limply onto the rocks. </p><p>McCoy’s breath caught in his chest and he realized he was shivering. It was windy by the river and very cold. </p><p>Yuhoohuu stood over Puuhoha, swaying slightly. Then she pulled the cloth from her tunic and unfurled it in the wind. It had a beautiful,  intricate design woven from three colors — a wedding quilt? The rangy Kieso spread it out over Puuhoha’s corpse. </p><p>--</p><p>“Leo!” Pasha jumped up from the stool and flung his arms around Leonard. “Oh, you’re cold.” </p><p>“Yeah.” He tucked his head down next to Pasha’s and inhaled the scent of his hair, absorbed the warmth of his body. </p><p>“Vhat happened?”</p><p>“She held on until Yuhoohuu got there.” Leonard didn’t think he needed to say any more. He doubted he could without crying like a baby. </p><p>“I told zhem zhat zhey should come vith us to zhe spaceport — zhat eet ees dangerous here now.”</p><p>Leonard kissed the side of the young man’s head. “Bet they didn’t like that idea very much.” </p><p>“No. Zhey did not.”</p><p>Frowning, Leonard listened to Pasha’s breathing. He pressed his ear to the younger man’s chest — it didn’t sound clear, but it sounded better than it had all day. “Did they give you something?” &lt; /p&gt;

</p>
<p>“Da, zhey had medicine for my cough.”</p><p><i>And you just took it</i>!? Leonard restrained himself from shouting. It was difficult — Pasha shouldn’t take anything without Leonard having a look at it first! At least! Ideally, he shouldn’t take anything unless Leonard gave it to him! He was the man’s doctor! </p><p>But it was done, and he could see the sudden tension in Pasha’s jaw, the worry at his less than positive reaction. Leonard made himself smile. “Feel better? “Did it help? </p><p>“Yes, Leo. I haven’t coughed since.” </p><p>“That’s good.” It <i>was</i> good. Pasha’s coughing would bring the infected right to him. And Leonard was relieved that Pasha wasn’t suffering as much. </p><p>He looked around the room. It was small and cold containing a large pile of the fungi the Kieso farmed up against one wall, several bales of a hay-like grain which gave the room an earthy scent. A table and two stools had been brought it and a pitcher of water was on the table with cups, next to a covered dish that smelled… not <i>good</i>. </p><p>“This is dinner?” Leonard asked wryly, pulling out a stool. </p><p>Pasha shrugged. “Zhey said zhat only some of zheir food ees palatable to Humans. Ve can’t metabolize zheir grains and zhe taste of zhe mushrooms ees...” He shrugged again. </p><p>“Of course it is.” Leonard rolled his eyes. </p><p>Bitter and viscous, the fungi and root vegetable mélange tasted better than it smelled — but that was likely because he was so hungry. Honestly Leonard could have devoured a whole pot of the nasty stuff. </p><p>He reminded himself that he was truly thankful to have food and water. Leonard hadn’t let himself daydream about fried chicken and macaroni and cheese with greens and dressing and biscuits still warm and flaky from the oven, peach cobbler and banana pudding with some of Grampa’s homemade ice cream — he didn’t get anything near that good on the ship, he wasn’t going to obsess over it on Omicron. They had a meal. They were hungry but they weren’t starving. </p><p>Pasha was having a harder time of it, gagging a little and blushing in shame. He scooped up another spoonful and forced himself to swallow it. </p><p>“Hey.” Leonard said, pushing bits of the root vegetable onto his plate. “This has a better texture.”</p><p>“Zhat ees sweet.” Pasha said. “But you need to eat too, Leo.” </p><p>“I don’t mind it so much.” Leonard told the younger man.</p><p>“I zhought eet vas strange zhey didn’t vant us to eat vith zhem… but now I’m reliewed.” Pasha said. “Zhey vere surprised zhat ve didn’t have any food of our own.” </p><p>“It’s kind of them to feed us.” Leonard said. “They know Humans don’t like their cuisine, can’t even digest most of it.” He would have to make sure their plates were clean. Food shared should never be wasted. He finished giving Pasha the root vegetables and ate a spoonful of the fungus. He chuckled softly. “A good deed never goes unpunished.” </p><p>Pasha giggled. “Ees zhat vhat zhis ees? Punishment stew?” </p><p>“Shhhh” Leonard shushed him, trying to keep his own laughter quiet. “Mind your manners or you’ll get more.” </p><p> “Nooo.” Pasha moaned. “Eef you had asked me an hour ago, I vould have sworn I vould not turn down any food. Oh no!” </p><p>“What?” Leonard asked, alarmed. </p><p>“I just realized — zhey vill give us breakfast tomorrow. Breakfast vill be vorse zhan zhis.” </p><p>“No — breakfast is always better.” Leonard claimed. “There’s always something sweet.” </p><p>“I don’t zhink zhe Kieso know vhat sveet ees.” Pasha griped. </p><p>Leonard laughed. “Valohah certainly liked the candy I gave her.” </p><p>“Did you see her face? Eet vas zhe first time she’d ewer tasted anyzhing sweet.” </p><p> A knock at the door had them hurriedly stifling giggles. “They throwin’ us out?” Leonard wondered. </p><p>It was Yuhoohuu, her pale fur puffed up around her face, making the scar that stretched from her temple to jaw stand out.</p><p>“Tomorrow.” She said. “What is your plan?” </p><p>“Ve are going to zhe space port. Zhe river vill take us vizhin ten kilometers, so eef ve can borrow a boat…” Chekov let the question dangle. “Eef not, zhen ve must go back to zhe road and valk.” </p><p>“And at the spaceport?” </p><p>“We’re going to call our ship.” McCoy told her. “There will be comms there that can penetrate the radiation.” </p><p>“Your ship is Starfleet. They will rescue you?” </p><p> “Yes. And you all too if you’ll come with us.”

</p>
<p>Yuhoohuu gestured with her hand — the same gestured she’d made by the river before she took the cloth from the tawny Kieso. “There is a boat we can take — I would like to go with you.” </p><p>“Good.” McCoy asserted. “That’s good.” She looked like she could handle herself in a fight. And she had that Argelian blaster. </p><p>“Only you?” Chekov asked. “Vhat about zhe ozhers?”</p><p>“Too dangerous.” Yuhoohuu told them. “They won’t risk it. Especially with Valohah. I’ll appeal to the Federation for rescue.” </p><p>“Zhe Keptin vill send a shuttle.” Chekov assured her. “But vill zhey be safe here een zhe meantime.” </p><p>Yuhoohuu made a different hand gesture — McCoy was beginning to think they signified ‘yes’ and ‘no’ like nodding or shaking one’s head. Or was it more like a shrug? “We have good borders — difficult to penetrate. Ohuunah and Mirinuha will be patrolling...” She fingered her scar. “The pod stuff... it’s good armor?” </p><p>“It’s warm.” McCoy told her. “I lost my coat the other day. And it keeps the blood off our skin... that’s why we’re carrying these around.” He kicked one of the shield cushions lightly. “To block the spatter. It’ll stand up to some clawing… maybe a bite? But not much. I don’t want to test it.”</p><p>“You’ve been bludgeoning them.”</p><p>“If you think we like doing it, you’re crazier than a pack of hungry Tellarites.” McCoy declared. He sighed. “We lost our phasers when we were swarmed — they were contaminated or... or they ran out of charge.” </p><p>“Swarmed?”</p><p>“Zhere are zhousands of zhem een zhe cities.” Chekov explained. “Ve zhink many have followed us. Zhey vill be een zhis area soon.” </p><p>“Following you?” Yuhoohuu frowned. “Why would they do that?” </p><p>“Because the virus is driving them to infect more people.” McCoy told her bluntly. “And we’re the only uninfected they’ve seen in days.” </p><p>“Your family, zhey must stay small and quiet.” Chekov said. “Zhey must not attract attention — zhe infected, zhey are relentless. Eef zhey can hear you, zhey  vill break down zhe door.” </p><p> “And get up high if you can — in the trees. They can’t climb.” Leonard had seen some of their dwellings built up the side of trees, into the branches. </p><p>The tall Kieso looked troubled. “I must talk to them again... oh... the bath is free for your use.” She gave them directions and left. </p><p>—</p><p>The bathing room was freezing — the walls didn’t reach all the way to the roof and the outside air blew through. But the water in the deep pool was almost too hot for Leonard to bear. He eased himself in slowly, his tan skin turning red in the delicious heat. As Pasha waded in after him, Leonard wet a handcloth in the pool and draped it on his head. He leaned back against the side, the steam rising around his face, and sighed happily. </p><p>Pasha reclined next to him, his skin shrimp pink and a satisfied smile on his lips. “Zhis ees vunderful.” The steam was making even his shortest hair curl. </p><p>They’d cleaned themselves hastily before climbing into the bath, in the squat shower stations exposed to the frigid air. As good as it had felt to wash his hair and scrub his skin, Leonard was thoroughly <i>done</i> with being cold. It was worse than being hungry, worse than being wet, worse than hiking all day and sleeping rough. If he got off Omicron, Leonard swore he would never let Jim persuade him down to a cold planet ever again. </p><p>The hot bath was <i>heavenly</i>! Leonard never wanted to get out. He closed his eyes and held Pasha’s hand under the water and felt the cloth on his head slowly cool. The heat eased his sore muscles, taking the kinks out of his back, the strain from his calves, the stress from his hips. It soothed his bruises, still blue and tender on his chest from the crash, emerging on his thigh, butt and arms from going out the window and landing on the fire escape platform, and a myriad others from who knows when. The heat broiled the aches from his body leaving him as liquid as the water. He could stay there for hours. </p><p>“I zhink I am done, Leo.” Pasha said, standing up. He coughed wetly </p><p>“Already?” Leonard opened his eyes in time to see Pasha’s nipples harden in the cold air, to see goose bumps travel across his pink skin. </p><p>“Eet’s a leetle hot for me.” Pasha stepped out and wrapped one of the huge towels around himself. </p><p>“Oh.” Leonard forced himself up. The icy air attacked his pleasantly hot skin and he shivered. “Ok.” </p><p>“You don’t have to get out.”</p><p>Leonard stepped out of the pool and grabbed the other towel. “I’d rather be with you.” He said, resting his hands on Pasha’s hips. “Unless you wanted some time alone?” </p><p>“No.” Pasha rested against his chest. It was amazing how well he fit in Leonard’s arms. “I’d rather be vith you too.” </p><p>“What do you say we go somewhere warmer?” </p><p>“Back to our room? Eet’s a leetle varmer.” </p><p>Leonard waggled his eyebrows lasciviously. “Perfect.” </p><p>Pasha giggled. “Eet ees, eesn’t eet?” </p><p>Grabbing their clothes, Leonard hurriedly donned his coverall, rolling the rest in a ball. He toweled off his hair then wrapped the big sheet around Pasha’s shoulders and opened the door for him. They stepped outdoors, shivering in the harsh wind and ran barefoot across the smooth courtyard to the room they’d been given for the night. </p><p>The room was in a glorified shed build against an old and impressively large, lavender tree. It was loosely attached to a series of sturdier wooden buildings built against and up into the trees around the courtyard. Leonard assumed they had some sort of heating system, but very little of it reached their shed which appeared to be used primarily for food and equipment storage. </p><p>That made sense. It was a shed. The Kieso had moved the tall pile of fungus and the bales of grain to the front room and laid out a makeshift bedroll for them in the rear. The floor was wood, at least, not dirt, but it smelled of the harvested mushrooms that were habitually kept there. </p><p>But it was out of the wind and warmer than it was outdoors. And it was across the river from the infected swarm. They would be safe tonight. </p><p>Leonard wrapped Pasha in one of the blankets, and as his feet once again turned to ice, he slipped one of the pod capes under the bedroll and put their shield-cushions under the matt where their heads would lay. </p><p>Unsealing his coverall, and dropping it on the floor, Leonard picked up Pasha and kissed him. The beautiful young man returned his kiss eagerly, wrapping his arms around Leonard’s shoulders. Together they tumbled onto the bedroll and Leonard pulled the blankets and the remaining pod cape over them. </p><p>Hands snaking under folds of blankets and then towel, Leonard despaired. “Not sure I can find you in all this.” He muttered.

</p>
<p>Laughing, Pasha lifted up and helped him open the towel, baring his skin for Leonard’s hands to roam. He stroked the young Russian’s still-pink chest and flank, caressed his cheek and neck. Pasha kissed Leonard eagerly, already hardening against his thigh. </p><p>“Leo…” He moaned, wrapping his legs around Leonard’s waist. “I want you so much. Take me.” </p><p>God, Leonard wanted to fuck Pasha again. His cock hung heavily between the younger man’s legs, bumping against his cheeks, rubbing his balls and into his crack. “Not in the cards tonight, darlin’.” He husked, because it wasn’t. He wasn’t fucking anyone, but especially not <i>Pasha</i>, with only spit for lube. </p><p>“But Leo…”</p><p>“Hush, my Pashenka’.” Leonard nuzzled into his sweet neck and kissed him there. “We can do other things. I’ll make you feel so good.” </p><p>“You alvays do…” Pasha murmured. “Aaaaaahhhh.” </p><p>“That’s right, darlin’. Relax.” Leonard eased Pasha’s legs down, laying between them, caressing down his pale thigh with one big hand. He leaned on his other elbow, holding himself up, over the lean body, and running his fingers through sandy curls. Pasha reached up and kissed him and Leonard lost himself in soft lips, questing tongue, strong arms, firm planes, and a hard prick, wet at the tip, sliding against his stomach. He groaned. </p><p>“Fuck… Leo…” Pasha lay back as Leonard took hold of his prick and stroked it, strafing his thumb over the tip and smearing pre-come down the shaft. “Yesss…” </p><p>Pasha’s hand found Leonard’s cock and matched his rhythm. Chuckling, Leonard brought his hand up to his mouth and licked his large palm. He wrapped it around both their shafts and Pasha’s entire body arched in pleasure. He thrust into his own hand, knowing the added friction would drive Pasha over the edge. </p><p>As the younger man panted and moved beneath him, Leonard fixed his mouth on the luscious skin just above his collarbone and sucked a mark. He worried it with his teeth, then leaned back — still stroking Pasha just as fast and hard as Pasha begged him to — and admired his work. Leonard <i>was</i> possessive. He knew it. It had been a point of contention in past relationships. But here on Omicron, they’d given themselves to each other. Here, on Omicron, Pasha was <i>his</i>. If he put his mark on Pasha now, if he indulged his possessiveness, asserted his place in Pasha’s life, it was ok. </p><p>It would fade before they made it off this rock. </p><p>And as Pasha stifled his cry and came, spurting into Leonard’s hand, and Leonard used his come to stroke himself, he looked at the beautiful man, writhing in ecstasy that he’d caused, looked at his mark, lurid red on Pasha’s ivory skin, and Leonard’s pleasure exploded all over Pasha’s chest. </p><p><i>Mine</i>! His orgasmic brain cried. <i>He’s mine</i>! “God, you’re wonderful.” Leonard sighed, and collapsed beside Pasha laughing helplessly in his afterglow. Laughing helplessly at his own folly. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So, McCoy and Chekov are no longer alone. They're almost to the spaceport — probably a cakewalk from here. You'd think so if you'd never read books before. Heh. </p><p> </p><p>Thank you for reading — I appreciate your comments.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. The End of the Road</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>DAY SEVEN: morning, early afternoon</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was bitterly cold. The wind howled over the river raising little waves on its swiftly flowing surface. It made the water look redder as it churned up mud and other debris. </p><p>All fifteen Kieso walked with them to the shore. Three of them carried a boat — for once not made of the almost ubiquitous pod material. This boat was made of varnished blue wood, the planks bowed gracefully into a tall prow. It was deep enough that if McCoy sat in the bottom, he couldn’t quite see over the side. He didn’t sit in the bottom, no matter how much he might want to, he planted himself on one of the benches and focused on not losing this morning’s bitter Kieso porridge with stewed fruit and tooth cleaning lozenge. The porridge was already making his stomach gurgle alarmingly. McCoy hoped he could digest it.</p><p>They’d been woken at dawn by the sounds of the Kieso’s household — footsteps, distant warbling conversations, the water closet flushing, utensils clinking against bowls, Valohah squealing and stamping her foot…</p><p>After the bath the night before, putting on the thermal underwear Leonard had worn for the last six days was demoralizing. But another day, two at most, and he’d be on the Enterprise and he could shove these rags in the nearest recycler and never think of them again. </p><p>The Kieso looked either depressed or furious or both. Several pretty clearly blamed McCoy and Chekov for bringing the pandemic to their doorstep. But cooler heads — or maybe just Yuhoohuu — had convinced them that the virus’ arrival was inevitable, and the two Humans offered an opportunity they wouldn’t get again. Regardless, the Kieso kept a grudging peace. </p><p>Yuhoohuu wore a homespun scarf and cloak over her tunic in the same forest colors. As she said her quiet goodbyes to her mates, Ho’oooh and Nararoh brought Valohah over to the two Humans. </p><p>“Thank you.” Ho’oooh said soberly. Both Kieso had red-rimmed eyes and somber expressions. “Thank you for bringing Valohah home.” </p><p>“I’m sorry we couldn’t do more.” McCoy told them. He wanted to say something about Puuhoha, about how brave she was, how strong, how much she loved life... but he’d known her for little more than an hour. What could <i>he</i> tell her mates that they didn’t already know? “I wish we could have done more.” </p><p>“Ve vill be back for you.” Chekov told them. “As soon as ve can.” </p><p>Ho’oooh made a hand gesture — one that Yuhoohuu had made last night, McCoy thought. He hoped it signified agreement. </p><p>Furoohoh — the spokesperson — returned the axe and prybar and wished them a safe journey. McCoy clambered awkwardly into the boat, Chekov followed more gracefully and Yuhoohuu with perfect poise. They pushed off. </p><p>McCoy watched the group on the shore as they got smaller and began to blend in with the forest. He wondered how long they’d been living on Omicron. It wouldn’t be easy to abandon the compound they’d built from nothing. Were they scouting the frontier for their fellows? Were there plans for more family groups to come to Omicron, build their own compounds? Valohah would need mates someday… had it all been for nothing? </p><p>It was <i>cold</i> on the river. McCoy was shivering uncontrollably within ten minutes, and fifteen minutes after that, Pasha’s hacking cough was back. </p><p>Thankfully, the current was fast enough that they didn’t need to paddle. Yuhoohuu sat in the back with the rudder, steering them around rocks and other obstacles. After a half hour of freezing his tits off, listening to Pasha hack up a lung, McCoy decided he had to do something. He urged Pasha to sit between his legs, then moved the younger man’s pod cape around to the front, creating a little pod feedback loop around them. </p><p>It felt good to hold Pasha in his arms, pull him close against his chest and rest his chin on his shoulder — even as his gurgling stomach rebelled against the motion of the boat. But he hated how the coughing wracked the smaller man’s body. He could feel the laborious inhales through Pasha’s back in his own chest. McCoy reached under Pasha’s shirts and rubbed the narrow chest, hoping his warm hand at least provided comfort. </p><p>The seasickness made McCoy dizzy. For the last hour, he had to lean over and put his head between his legs. Pasha ran his fingers through McCoy’s hair, and it felt good. If only he didn’t feel so much like booting his guts into the bottom of the boat. </p><p>For all that, the trip on the river was uneventful — just four hours of freezing, coughing and nausea. As he stumbled out of the wooden boat, McCoy had never been happier to leave a safe haven for a dangerous trek in his life. </p><p>The forest was quiet, but not eerily so. The birdsong-like call of Omicron’s native fauna sounded overhead and the branches above them shook as the little mammals moved about. They had to hike roughly ten kilometers through the woods to reach the road, and McCoy was worried about what they’d find. </p><p>The infected hadn’t crossed the river. McCoy hadn’t seen them on the banks as they floated past. He hadn’t been able to get a really good look into the forests from the boat, but he hadn’t seen the shadows moving. </p><p>Had they lost them? Or would they continue down the road McCoy and Chekov had put them on? </p><p>Yuhoohuu had brought a vial of the medicine the Kieso had given Pasha the night before. McCoy intercepted it — he smelled it and placed a drop on his tongue, assessing it. It was very much like an Argelian herbal tea that was effective at suppressing coughs — in Humans as well as Argelians. </p><p>He let a bemusedly tolerant Pasha drink it. Leonard could see the teasing comments Pasha wanted to make — but with a glance at Yuhoohuu he held his tongue. </p><p>This was the first day that Pasha’s illness sapped him of energy. The navigator’s indefatigable good nature remained, but his stamina flagged. Tired blue shadows lurked under his gray eyes. The kid who’d run a sub-two hour marathon, who Leonard regularly saw running — not jogging, <i>running</i> — in the corridors of the Enterprise well into Gamma shift, was now having trouble keeping pace with a middle-aged doctor who’d rather jam tacks in his gums than even contemplate a marathon. </p><p>It made McCoy exceedingly grateful for both Yuhoohuu’s blaster and her compass. </p><p>With the latter and Chekov’s eidetic memory of the map, they were able to angle their hike towards the spaceport, taking at least three kilometers off their journey. They would definitely reach their destination today. </p><p>--</p><p>They were within a kilometer of the road when they saw the first infected. </p><p>McCoy had called a rest — Pasha had almost tripped on a loose stone, his fatigue making him uncharacteristically clumsy. That morning, Leonard had insisted Pasha wear the boots and the knit hat again and had even tried to force his sweater on the younger man. He felt so damn helpless! But he did what he could, linking his arm with his lover as they walked to lend him support and warmth, and calling for frequent stops so Pasha could recharge his flagging energy. </p><p>They were sitting quietly sharing water. Leonard had given Pasha the last hard candy, hoping the sugar would boost him a little, when they saw it — him… her… them…</p><p>It was more accurate to say they <i>heard</i> the infected. With its deep purple skin, it was difficult to pick out in the shadow under the trees, but it was noisy. Its tortured walk churned up fallen leaves and other debris, and it chattered its teeth as it moved, scraping its claws across the tree trunks it passed. </p><p>The three of them sat stock still and quiet until they could no longer hear it. Yuhoohuu looked grim and McCoy remembered that this was the first fully symptomatic infected person that she had seen. When they stood to continue their hike, she drew her blaster and took point. Silently, McCoy drew his prybar. He put Chekov between them, shaking his head when the young Russian began to pull his axe. </p><p>“Save your energy, darlin’.” Leonard whispered. “We’re almost to the road.” </p><p>They crept through the trees, vigilant. Again, they heard them before they saw them — a group this time moving directly towards them. Yuhoohuu shot them with the blaster. Unlike phasers, the Argelian blasters had neither a stun setting nor a way to shoot more than one figure at a time. McCoy had to engage, shoving one back with his cushion and slamming the prybar into the skull of another while Yuhoohuu picked them off. </p><p>When McCoy turned back to Pasha, he was pale and panting, the axe in his hands. </p><p>“Come on.” McCoy said, taking Pasha by the hand. “We’re almost there.” He ran, dragging Pasha along, hating the wet sound of his gasping breaths. There were more infected — Yuhoohuu shot some, they ran past others…</p><p>Suddenly, a sharp pain lanced through McCoy’s foot and he was falling, rolling, a cry escaping his lips. Pasha stared at him in confusion, then looked wildly around as infected changed course towards them. </p><p>Swearing, McCoy tried to stand up, but <i>something</i> caught on the ground and the pain was <i>agonizing</i>. He fell back, trying to catch his breath, trying to hurry. Examining his foot, he discovered a slender branch fallen from a tree, had pierced the side of his shoe, gored his foot and come out the other side. </p><p>An Infected came right up to them and Pasha bludgeoned it with the axe. McCoy used his cushion to shield himself from the blood spatter. Before another could find them, McCoy took a firm hold of the stick, took three deep breaths, gritted his teeth and yanked it out. </p><p><i>Oh God! It fucking hurt!</i> McCoy’s vision blacked out briefly as he curled into himself and somehow kept himself from screaming. But he lost the battle to keep his breakfast down, retching the bitter porridge onto the forest floor. For a minute, McCoy lay shuddering and spitting on the carpet of damp leaves, clutching his gut with one arm and gripping his foot with the other. With a deep breath, he forced himself to sit up long before he felt able. </p><p>Yuhoohuu appeared, shooting the oncoming infected and she and Pasha dragged McCoy to his feet. As he ran, McCoy clung to Pasha — not sure who was supporting whom — and focused on Pasha’s wet exhales. His worry for the younger man took the sharp edge off his pain and he was able to keep moving until they emerged into the bright sunlight of the road. </p><p>They staggered to the middle of the (sustainable) tarmac where Pasha collapsed. McCoy, feeling stronger now, balanced on his uninjured foot — the other bleeding copiously in a spreading pool on the road — and stood guard over his lover, wielding the prybar. </p><p>Infected that had been chasing them burst onto the road — and to a one, they paused blinded by the sunlight, before continuing on their tortured path towards them. Yuhoohuu shot them as they wandered unseeing on the road. </p><p>With a baleful look at the pool of blood, Yuhoohuu unwound the scarf from around her neck and thrust it at McCoy. Gritting his teeth, he wrapped it tightly around his shoe, binding the wounded foot within, not daring to take the shoe off. It should keep him on his feet until they reached their destination.</p><p><i>There would be an infirmary at the spaceport</i>! The thought burst hopefully into his mind. If nothing else, McCoy could fix Pasha’s lungs and make sure his damn foot didn’t get infected. And oh God! He hoped there would be a pressure boot he could stick this damned foot in. And some way to apply a nerve block. A blessed, blessed nerve block! But until then…</p><p>As soon as Pasha caught his breath and Leonard tied off the scarf, the younger man wedged himself under Leonard’s arm and they limped away from the blind predators. No other infected ventured into the sunlight, the road was again their narrow strip of safety between two looming walls of danger. </p><p>--</p><p>It was mid-afternoon when they reached the end of the road. </p><p>And not a second too soon. Pasha was grey with fatigue and McCoy was feeling pretty ground down himself by the dull throbbing in his foot that flared with every step. The blue-violet scarf was sodden with his blood, and he was leaving a trail of red footprints behind him. The walking stick Yuhoohuu had fashioned from a fallen branch was the only thing that had kept McCoy walking the last half hour — that and Pasha’s grim determination. </p><p>Unfortunately, the spaceport wasn’t at the end of the road. A double-sided tramway that covered the last 20 kilometers to the spaceport was. One side of the tram was huge, made for hauling cargo to the warehouses lining the wide-open lot where trucks parked to wait their turn to be loaded. Several trucks were still parked there, one with its cargo stacked neatly next to it. </p><p>The other side of the tramway, the side for people, led to a large, well-appointed hotel made of many fused pods. It faced away from the cargo yard, fronting a crystal-clear lake and the forest beyond. A certain kind of visitor to Omicron Settlement stayed there, in the lavish hotel, and never ventured farther to bother with — or bother — the permanent residents. </p><p>Orion traders and Tellarite cargo haulers mostly, McCoy bet, but a sprinkling of transient Andorians, Humans, Bolians, Antarans, and the odd Vulcan or Betazoid. Perhaps an example of a more exotic species crewing a ship now and again. </p><p>The hotel would have been staffed by residents of Omicron, as would the cargo yard, who could have brought the virus to work with them. The whole place looked like a ghost town. </p><p>There was a shudder in the forest, a contraction of the shadows. It was unnerving. The infected were there, more all the time, just waiting for dusk. </p><p>“Leo, look at zhe hotel.” Pasha said. “No disintegration.” </p><p>“There are people living here.”</p><p>“And ve brought zhe horde.”</p><p>“We need to warn them.” Yuhoohuu said. </p><p>“Ve need to get to zhe spaceport.” Chekov countered. Exhaustion made him querulous. </p><p>McCoy eyed the tramway, wondering how they were going to get it going. “Yeah. We’re talking to them first. Maybe we’ll get lucky and find the tram operator.” And medicine and food for Pasha and a tissue regenerator for himself. McCoy started limping towards the hotel. </p><p>“You know zhey don’t have operators, right?” Chekov said, following with Yuhoohuu. </p><p>“I figured as much.” McCoy growled. He was keeping an eye on the far shore of the lake where the forest was undulating. “I also figure you have some idea how to get it moving.” </p><p>“Maybe. Eet depends on zhe system.” </p><p>“Uh huh.” McCoy had confidence in Pasha’s genius. </p><p>They walked around to the front of the hotel, climbing up onto a vast veranda where they fell automatically into a defensive posture, McCoy taking point this time, setting their slow pace, while Yuhoohuu covered their six, Pasha once again, carefully tucked between them. As they approached the main entrance two Andorians in gold coveralls stepped out wielding phaser rifles. An Orion, two Humans and a Tellarite followed, they all pointed their phaser rifles at the three travelers. </p><p>McCoy stopped, drooping a little. </p><p>“Drop your weapons.” One of the Andorians said. </p><p>“Turn around and go back the way you came.” Said the other. </p><p>Holding out his hands, McCoy set the prybar and the pod cushion on the veranda in front of him. Chekov followed his example, relinquishing the axe and cushion. Yuhoohuu stood tall, her fur puffed out extravagantly. She left her blaster in her holster, giving up nothing.</p><p>“The stick too.”</p><p>“I need it to walk.” McCoy protested. </p><p>“I said drop it!”</p><p>“Fine.” McCoy snapped, setting it on the blue-gray veranda. </p><p>“What is that you're wearing?!" The Tellarite jeered. "A pod house?” </p><p>“Yeah.” </p><p>“Is it supposed to be camouflage or something?” </p><p>McCoy sighed. “I lost my coat.” He said. “It’s warm.” </p><p>“You look like idiots.” </p><p>“Yeah, it’s warm.” McCoy snapped. </p><p>The Tellarite sniggered unpleasantly. "What's the pillow for then?" </p><p>“Shut-up, Booi-bo." The first Andorian snapped. "What are you doing here?!” McCoy had forgotten how cranky Andorians could be. </p><p>“Ve are going to zhe spaceport.” Chekov volunteered. </p><p>“Why? There’s nothing there.”</p><p>“There might be for us.” McCoy told them. </p><p>“Get rid of them.” The second said. “They’re just more mouths to feed.” The group behind him murmured approval. </p><p>“You should come with us.” Yuhoohuu told them, her voice even. </p><p>“Why?” The first asked, narrowing her eyes. </p><p>“Look at the forest, across the lake.” McCoy watched their faces until they saw it. Their blue complexions paled. </p><p>“You brought them here!”</p><p>“Zhey followed zhe road.” Chekov told them. “Zhere vas nozhing ve could do.” </p><p>“They followed <i>you</i>! You should have gone somewhere else!”</p><p>“We have to go to the spaceport.” McCoy insisted. </p><p>The second Andorian raised his rifle and pointed it at McCoy’s head. “Leave now, Humans! And whatever the hell <i>you</i> are.” He added frowning at Yuhoohuu. </p><p>“Desist, Palenne.” An unarmed person had stepped through the group — a Vulcan! “The Humans are Starfleet.” </p><p>“So?!”</p><p>“Starfleet does not leave their people behind. They are <i>our</i> best chance of rescue.” </p><p>“Starfleet!” Palenne scoffed. “That doesn’t look like any Starfleet uniform I ever saw.” </p><p>“Obviously they’ve changed their clothes.” The Vulcan said with complete equanimity. “Invite them in, we have much to discuss.”</p><p>“Taret!” Palenne protested. He didn’t lower his rifle. “Who are you?” He snapped at McCoy. </p><p>“I’m Doctor Leonard McCoy and this is Lieutenant Pavel Chekov, and yes, we’re Starfleet. This is Yuhoohuu, she’s —.”</p><p>“You’re a doctor!?” The first Andorian cut him off, dashing forward with urgency. “Come with me!” She grabbed McCoy by the arm and dragged him forcibly into the group of people and beyond. </p><p>Taken by surprise, McCoy stumbled, the pain in his foot agonizing. He yelped and fell and the Andorian practically carried him into the hotel. McCoy was <i>not</i> going anywhere without Pasha if he could help it, but the Andorian wasn't listening to his protests. She kept pulling him deeper into the hotel — and she was strong, he could not get free of her. McCoy went limp, slowing the Andorian with his dead weight and grabbed a doorframe. Anchored, McCoy shouted for Lieutenant Chekov, for Pasha. </p><p>“Doctor McCoy! Leo!” </p><p>Hearing Pasha shouting gave McCoy the strength to push himself to his feet. Shaking off the surprised Andorian, he limped back towards the entrance as fast as he could — where he found an unwelcome tableau. </p><p>Pasha was in the lobby, unconscious on the floor, blood flowing from his forehead. Palenne stood over him with the phaser rifle in his hands. Yuhoohuu was behind him, hissing, holding her blaster on the big Andorian. The Vulcan was calmly talking to the Andorian as if he hadn’t just hit Pasha with the butt of his rifle. The room was filling up with other people — more Humans, Tellarites, and Andorians. Most of them were armed. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Infirmary</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>DAY SEVEN: afternoon</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“<i>What did you do</i>!?” McCoy screamed. Ignoring the rifles, his pain, and the people standing over Pasha, he slid to his knees between them and began checking the younger man’s vitals. His heartbeat was strong and steady, and Leonard began to calm down. As he carefully turned Pasha onto his side, the ringing in his ears resolved into voices and he heard the Andorian, Palenne, protesting. </p><p>“He tried to attack me!”</p><p>“And had he cause?” The Vulcan asked </p><p>“He did.” Yuhoohuu interjected. </p><p>“How was I supposed to know they were mated?” Palenne snapped. “We <i>need</i> the doctor we don’t need this one.” </p><p>“If you had allowed me to talk with them, we could have determined all the facts before making any decisions.” The Vulcan said calmly. “Palenne, we have discussed this before. You act rashly to the detriment of us all.” </p><p>Leonard lifted Pasha’s head into his lap and examined the cut on his forehead where Palenne had hit him with the rifle. He wanted his Medbay with all its equipment more desperately than ever right now. </p><p>“We don’t need him. We can’t even feed ourselves.” Palenne growled. </p><p>The Andorian who had dragged McCoy away interrupted and began yanking on his arm again. “Doctor!” She cried. “I need you, Doctor!” </p><p>“Stop that!” McCoy snapped viciously enough that she let go of him. </p><p>Palenne leveled his phaser rifle at McCoy’s head. Again. “You will go with her.” He snapped. “Go with her and fix her sister.” </p><p>“Like hell I will!” McCoy shouted back. “Not until I fix what you’ve done to Chekov!” </p><p>Sneering Palenne dropped the barrel to Pasha’s head. “How ‘bout I eliminate the problem entirely?” </p><p>Yuhoohuu shoved her blaster against the back of the Andorian’s head. “Drop it.” She hissed. She reached around and snatched the rifle from his hands. </p><p>“Idiot!” McCoy snarled. “You need Chekov more than you need me. He’s the one that’s going to save your damn lives!” </p><p>“How’s he gonna do that?” Unarmed, Palenne had lost none of his attitude. </p><p>“He can fix whatever’s broken at the spaceport so we can all get off this damn rock.”</p><p>“How did you know —”</p><p>“He knows because we would have left already.” The Vulcan told Palenne with more patience than Leonard had had in his entire lifetime. “If we could have. Stand down, Palenne.” </p><p>Grudgingly, the Andorian stepped back, shooting a poisonous glance at Yuhoohuu. </p><p>“We have to go to the spaceport.” McCoy told them. “Before dusk. This hotel won’t last the night.” </p><p>Palenne scoffed. </p><p>Glaring daggers at the man, McCoy gently unfastened Pasha’s pod cape and then his own. He heaved himself to his feet barely even feeling his injury, fury at the truculent Andorian giving him strength, then lifted Pasha gently in his arms. Pasha had told him he’d done this once before — picked up an ailing Pavel Chekov, and carried him, treated him. He’d lived then, he was going to live now. And then McCoy was going to kill Palenne with his bare hands. </p><p>“Is there any kind of infirmary in this place?” McCoy asked pointedly. Pasha was alarmingly light in his arms — he’d lost muscle in the last few days, his body beginning to digest itself. It was not at all surprising he couldn’t fight off the cough. </p><p>“Yes!” The first Andorian jumped in. “I’ve been trying to take you there.” </p><p>“All you had to do was <i>ask</i>.”</p><p>McCoy limped after the Andorian and Yuhoohuu trailed after, keeping tabs on Palenne. The Vulcan walked along with them, carrying the pod capes — and after a few steps, propping up McCoy with one sallow hand under his arm. McCoy couldn’t say he wasn’t grateful for the single voice of sanity in this lunatic hotel (of course it <i>had</i> to be a Vulcan) accompanying them. “Connor’s sister was attacked by people suffering from Zed-56-O.S. — I assume you’ve seen the results of infection…” The Vulcan said. </p><p>“Yeah, we’ve seen it.” McCoy muttered. Boy had they ever. </p><p>“They brought the weepers with them!” </p><p>“Hold your peace, Palenne.” The Vulcan chided. </p><p>“She was bitten, Connor’s sister?” McCoy needed to tell them what was going to happen in roughly three hours… but he was damn well gonna get Pasha medical attention first. </p><p>“Badly. The autodoc is no longer usable…” The Vulcan paused oddly. “And we had no one else with the knowledge to treat her.” </p><p>“Not even you?” McCoy asked skeptically. </p><p>“I was not born into the healer’s caste.” The Vulcan said without a trace of emotion. “Nor the science caste.” </p><p>“What <i>were</i> you born into?” McCoy grumbled. </p><p>He was shocked when the Vulcan’s features softened infinitesimally in that way he’d come to identify as a smile. “That question is extremely rude.” Taret observed. </p><p>“About what you’d expect from a Human.” McCoy replied. </p><p>The smile grew microscopically. “Indeed. Ah, here we are.” </p><p>The infirmary was a medium-sized room with an autodoc taking up a third of the floorspace. McCoy saw immediately why they no longer used it — there were the remains of an infected Human in it, and generous splatters of blood and fluids all over the inside. </p><p>He laid Pasha gently on an open bio bed and noted the readings — despite being unconscious he was strong and relatively healthy. Early malnutrition, minor dehydration and an accumulation of fluid in his lungs presented, all things Leonard expected to see. The blow to his head would need treatment but was ultimately minor. </p><p>Satisfied, he examined the autodoc — if the Andorians could clean it out quickly enough…</p><p>No. Its entire system was clogged with virus. It had backed up and blown a circuit, causing the main tool arm to shear in half. It was a complete loss. </p><p>“Doctor… Doctor…” It was Connor. The Andorian was dancing with impatience next to the other biobed, on which reclined an Andorian who bore a striking resemblance to Connor. Her vitals were weak, infection running rampant throughout her system. Andorian blood didn’t go sceptic as Human and Vulcan blood did, and a good thing because if so, she would have been long dead. </p><p>McCoy looked at the Andorians, Tellarites, Humans and the other species crowding into the room. </p><p>“Everyone out.” He said, supporting himself on Chekov’s biobed with one hand and waving the other in a dismissive gesture. “Connor, you can stay. And — I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?” McCoy said to the Vulcan. </p><p>“I am Taret.”</p><p>“Taret, if you could stay, and Yuhoohuu. The rest of you, <i>out</i>. If you have a medical complaint, wait in the hall, someone will be out organize you.” McCoy gave them a “you heard me” look, and they began to shuffle into the corridor, leaving his and Chekov’s belongings in a pile by the door. The prybar clanked as it landed on the floor. Soon everyone had gone. All but Palenne. </p><p>“Palenne.” Connor said, glancing worriedly at McCoy. “Please?” </p><p>Scoffing loudly, Palenne grabbed his rifle from Yuhoohuu and stomped out of the infirmary. </p><p>“Taret.” McCoy said. “If you could triage any medical complaints, I’d appreciate it — put the most serious first. Let me know if anyone else is critical. Afterwards… Taret, does the tramway work? Can you get all of us to the spaceport?” </p><p>“Yes.” The Vulcan replied looking about as suspicious as a Vulcan could. </p><p>McCoy sighed. “Palenne is correct, we’ve brought hell down on your heads. There are thousands — maybe tens of thousands — of infected out there now and at dusk, they’ll attack the hotel.” </p><p>“We have faced the sufferers before.”</p><p>“Not this many.” McCoy told him. “They <i>swarm</i>. Even with phasers, there’s too many, you’re just prolonging the inevitable. We’ve tried to fight a swarm and Chekov and I barely escaped — and only because we ran, and we got very lucky. Others we were with weren’t so lucky. It doesn’t matter how well you reinforce the doors they will break through <i>tonight</i>. From what I can tell, this place doesn’t have levels, just different pods?” </p><p>“That is correct.”</p><p>McCoy shook his head. “We can’t withstand them here tonight. Our only option is to run. Can you get the rest organized? Yuhoohuu can help.” </p><p>Taret stared at him for a long minute. “How do I know that you are telling the truth?” </p><p>“Of course I’m telling the truth!” McCoy bellowed impatiently. “<i>Why would I lie</i>?” 

</p>
<p>“The most obvious reason is that you want the hotel for yourself.” </p><p>“This hotel is impossible to defend.” McCoy growled. “And without an upper level, anyone inside is a sitting duck for the infected. Trust me, I don’t want your damn hotel.” </p><p>“I am inclined to believe you, but there is no proof beyond your word, Doctor. Instead of thousands of sufferers, there could be an unaffected group with whom you are affiliated planning to take the hotel for its strategic location and the supposition that it contains plentiful supplies.”

</p>
<p>“Anyone who stays here tonight is as good as dead.” McCoy said plaintively. There had to be a way to convince them… </p><p>Abruptly he knew what he had to do — and he did <i>not</i> want to do it. At all. Anything but that! Of all the indignities Omicron had thrown at him, this was the worst. Gritting his teeth, McCoy asked, “Can you do the thing? The Vulcan mind thing?” </p><p>Taret’s eyes bored into him, but he said nothing. </p><p>“Hello?” McCoy waved at the man’s eyes. “You’re a touch telepath, right?” </p><p>“You know of that?” The Vulcan looked scandalized. </p><p>“Yeah.” McCoy steeled himself. “You-have-my-permission-to-mind-meld.” He said, all at once. “Just… try not to be too invasive. </p><p>“You have experienced this before.”</p><p>“Unfortunately.” McCoy waited for Taret to move. “Come on. If this is what it takes for you to believe me, then <i>do it</i>.” </p><p>Slowly, Taret stepped forward and placed his fingers on McCoy’s face and muttered “My mind to your mind… our minds are one…” It was just as unpleasant and humiliating as he remembered, but more so because this was him stripped bare for a stranger. He hadn’t realized how much care Spock had taken with him. </p><p>Or maybe he was just better at it. Taret was like a bulldozer in his brain, using its shovel to sift through the metaphorical haystack for a needle. He was a boulder rolling downhill, gathering speed, crushing everything in its path… he blundered where Spock had eased, he stomped where Spock had slid…</p><p>
  <i>McCoy was in Settlement City, running with Chekov’s uncle for the river, shooting at the hordes of infected, choking on fear… he was shouting at Jocelyn, angrier than he’d ever been, choking on rage… trapped in the corridor in Carson City Hall, choking on panic… nine years old, in Granny’s kitchen choking on a bite of apple… he was watching Pasha use the axe to smash the head of an infected person while the horrifying stick figure kind broke down the door and began to advance… Chekov on the bridge, so earnest and so smart and confident and only seventeen… kissing Pasha because they were going to die and their age difference didn’t matter anymore and God it was wonderful… in the loft with Pasha staring down at the recently infected man in horror, expecting that would be him soon… holding Joanna in his arms, rocking her until she stopped crying… the fence, infected caught in the razor wire, pathetic and terrifying… Jim handing him a shot of bourbon and telling him they’d get through it together… Jim sitting in the captain’s chair on the bridge… lunatic Romulans… Puuhoha weeping as she held her child at arms-length, so as not to infect her with her blood or tears… Valhoha in his arms as he leapt to the next flat stone and his balance wavered, the river rushing by centimeters from his feet… Jim dead on his slab… Spock’s grief… making a serum from Kahn’s blood to save him… a disruptor in his hand… spooning Pasha, holding him flush against his body, warming him, worrying about the cough that had woken him… the stick figures with their giant, headlamp eyes weeping blood advancing on him and Pasha in the morning sunlight… hefting the prybar, feeling sick to his stomach even before he swung… a torpedo hitting the ship and people being sucked into space… Dr. Puri gone, leaving him in charge… Rhys bleeding on the floor… Yuhoohuu shooting Puuhoha in the head … injecting Jim with a hypospray… Doctor Wals disappearing behind a wall of infected… holding Chekov in his arms in the bottom of a pod boat… Crewman Strong laughing when she heard how much he’d bet on her… Jim touching his face… the gunshot… </i>
</p><p>Gasping, McCoy jerked away, realizing after that Taret had released him from the psychic link. </p><p>To be fair, the Vulcan looked as unhappy as McCoy did about the dip into his mind, but he quickly regained his equanimity. “I will prepare everyone for travel.” He said. With a slight bow, the Vulcan fled. </p><p>“Go with him.” McCoy gasped at Yuhoohuu. After subjecting him to an assessing look, she nodded and followed the Vulcan. </p><p>Conner was staring at him with round eyes, her antennae stiff with discomfort. </p><p>Taking a deep breath, McCoy tried to shake it off, the sense of violation, the <i>immediacy</i> of all the emotion… <i>Jocelyn… Jim… Pashenka… </i></p><p>With a last worried look at Pasha, McCoy nodded at Conner and stripped off his jacket — the hotel was just as cold as the rest of the damned planet, but it was time to get to work. </p><p>McCoy opened cupboards until he found the supplies he was looking for. “Can you bring me that chair?” He asked Conner. She stared at him. “Look, I can barely walk. I’m going to be a lot more help to your sister if you give me two minutes to stabilize my foot.” </p><p>Her jaw set unhappily, but she brought him the chair. McCoy sat down and used the laser scalpel to cut off the bloody scarf and shoe. Before even looking at his foot closely, he jammed a numbing hypo into his ankle, followed by a broad-spectrum antibiotic. He used the scalpel to cut the hem of his coverall and ripped the fabric up to his knee, then rucked up both layers of thermal underwear. </p><p>He really should clean the wound, but McCoy didn’t have time. Instead he sprayed it liberally with antiseptic. It was still bleeding — he applied some coagulant paste and gingerly inserted his foot in the stabilization boot. Activating the boot, he sighed in relief — the material inflated around his foot and lower leg creating a solid pressure bandage on which he could walk. The throbbing didn’t disappear, but it dulled. </p><p>Standing up, McCoy limped to the sterilization station, he opened a dispenser of decontamination wipes and cleaned his hands up to the elbow and then his face and neck. “Been a while.” He muttered at Conner’s impatient sigh. He pulled a sterile smock over his head and took a medical PaDD from the back of the cabinet and savored the feeling of it in his hands — it had been like missing a piece of himself. </p><p>He opened the glove field and dipped his hands, coating them with the sterile material. Then he began his examination of Connor’s sister. </p><p>“What’s your name?” He asked the patient softly. </p><p>“Corren.” Conner answered for her sister. </p><p>“Hi, Corren, can you hear me? Yeah? I’m Doctor McCoy and I’m going to take care of you. How long ago were you bitten?” </p><p>“Two weeks.” Conner again. Corren was gripping her sister’s hand with her good one. </p><p>“Are the bites just on your hand, arm and cheek or are there others?”</p><p>“M-my shoulder.” Corren said weakly. Conner gave him a dirty look for making Corren expend the energy. </p><p>“This one?” McCoy indicated the same side as the other bites. Corren nodded. “Can I look?” Corren nodded again and McCoy set the PaDD down to retrieve the laser scalpel. He re-dipped his hands in the sterile glove field and then carefully sliced through the gold cloth of the woman’s coverall, exposing her shoulder. This bite, as with the others, had ointment smeared on it, probably some kind of antibiotic. Its effect had been limited. </p><p>“It looks like it hurts.” McCoy knew damn well it hurt. Hell, the woman’s fingers were black and rotting, it had to be agony. Corren nodded and her antennae lay tensely against her head. “I’m going to give you something for the pain now.” McCoy told her. “Something that Andorians tolerate well.” He assured her immediately. You couldn’t give Andorians opiates, not with their metabolisms, it killed them right away. Humans made that mistake once or twice and the whole species decided they didn’t need painkillers, not even their own if a Human were giving it. “And then I’m going to take a little sample from your hand, and mix a phage specially formulated for this infection. We’ll infuse that today and see how you respond. OK?” </p><p>Corren nodded again and McCoy went to find the right painkiller. </p><p>Pasha was coming around. McCoy took the hypo and box of painkillers over to his bio bed. “Hey.” He said. </p><p>“Leo?”</p><p>“Yeah. “Lay still, darlin’. I’ll get you something for that headache in a minute.” </p><p>“Wait… are you… that Andorian…”</p><p>“I know. I got it straightened out. You’re in the infirmary — just rest for now, Pasha.” McCoy leaned down and kissed him very gently. He wanted to drop everything and attend to Pasha immediately. But the bio-bed told him that he wasn’t bleeding on the brain. There was minor concussion that the deep-tissue regenerator would heal. It could wait while McCoy dealt with the much more serious patient. “I’m gonna be right over there. </p><p>“OK Corren. This is made from the Krakka mineral, found on Andor.” McCoy showed her the label on the opened package. “You won’t have any ill-effects, just relief from the pain.” He waited until she nodded then injected the hypo in the side of the woman’s neck. Within thirty seconds, he saw her begin to relax. Dipping his hands in the sterile glove field again, he opened the sample collection kit and cleared away some of the ointment. When the wound was exposed, he scraped a bit and sealed it in the prepared test tube. McCoy tucked it in the autofuge for processing. </p><p>McCoy looked through cabinets until he found the cortical steroids, nutrapaks, and the deep-tissue regenerator. Disinfecting his hands again, he went back to Pasha. </p><p>“Do zhey know zhe danger?” Chekov asked. “Vhen eet gets dark?” </p><p>“Yes.” McCoy told him, injecting the steroid in Pasha’s neck. “But we have time for this. Now hold still.” He hung the nutrapak and started an IV, pushing the hydrating nutrition directly into his lover’s blood stream. Then he affixed the deep-tissue regenerator to the bio bed over Pasha’s head and placed the nodes on his skull, bracketing the impact point, and set it to run a cycle. “Now close your eyes.” He said firmly. “And hold still — you’ll be glad you did when we get to the Spaceport.” </p><p>“Da, Leo.”</p><p>“Good.” Leonard kissed him softly. “Take care of that big brain of yours. I’m going to check in about tonight. Relax. I won’t be far.” He leaned close and whispered in Pasha’s ear. “The other patient is critical, they won’t do anything to us, either of us, until she’s outta the woods.” He waited to see that Pasha understood. When the younger man let the tension leak from his frame and closed his eyes, McCoy stood up straight. </p><p>“Conner, you heard what I told Taret?” She nodded. Just mentioning the Vulcan’s name made McCoy’s gut roil with nausea as he flashbacked to the mind meld. <i>…vacant black eyes and clacking teeth… Jim in the captain’s chair…</i> “Uh… Ca… can you help me pack up enough medical supplies to care for Corren when we leave here? He asked, pressing a hand against his head. </p><p>McCoy was gonna have a humdinger of a headache. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>McCoy finally gets to treat Chekov's lungs — as well as his own injury. That would be more of a relief if they were't in imminent danger. So close to the spaceport!</p><p>I'm working on a sequel to this baby. Clearly just for myself. :) But I appreciate feedback. Thanks for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Echo Chamber</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>DAY SEVEN: evening</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They left through a back door of the hotel, Palenne leading with one of the Humans, and the Orion all with phaser rifles. Conner and McCoy minding Corren’s anti-grav stretcher and the sledge with the medical supplies came next. Behind them, the Vulcan Taret and Chekov with hand phasers, in front of a large group of Humans surrounding another anti-grav sledge carrying all their remaining rations and a large quantity of water — they had refused to leave it behind — and bringing up the rear were the remaining Andorians. All had the phaser rifles. </p><p>McCoy thought back to the ridiculously valuable and heavy container of rory-rua that he’d <i>carried</i> through Settlement City. And here was an anti-grav sledge and stretcher. McCoy felt very distantly outraged. </p><p>The hypo he’d taken for his headache made all of his emotions seem distant. Maybe the mind meld with Taret had been a mistake. Spock’s dip into his mind hadn’t left McCoy feeling hungover like this — and worse, like he was in an echo chamber, the memories from the meld flashing into his mind distractingly, nauseatingly, at random intervals. But with his injury grinding him down, and his worry over Pasha — and the infected lurking in the forest just waiting for dusk — McCoy had wanted the fastest, easiest way to convince the Vulcan. </p><p>Chekov moved up next to McCoy. “Just a few more minutes.” He whispered. The sun was hovering at the horizon. </p><p>“Are you ready to run?” McCoy asked. They were both wearing their pod capes over bio-hazard suits and McCoy had his prybar handy. </p><p>“Da.” The steroids, nutrapak and tissue regenerator had worked their magic — Pasha’s cough was gone, his lungs clear, his energy restored and the blow to his head reduced to a small cut. “You can run, Leo?” </p><p>“I’ll be fine.” McCoy was still wearing the pressure boot, and he’d given himself a chemical nerve block from the knee down so running wouldn’t be a problem. What his foot would look like when he took the boot off… well, he’d worry about that if he survived. </p><p>The cargo tramway was almost a kilometer from the hotel — that was the tram they needed, not only would it accommodate all of them and the sledges, the cargo trams were the only trams on the planet that ran independently. Unlike the large and intricate system of tramways for people, the cargo trams could be started and stopped on location with manual controls. </p><p>Yuhoohuu and all the Tellarites had gone ahead to the tram. McCoy could see their tiny forms standing around the entrance to the car</p><p>One of the Tellarites, a mechanic named Varro, had been running the cargo tram for the Andorian traders. They’d been trying to repair Connor’s ship, a Devil Class Cargo Cruiser named <i>Maud</i>. McCoy was relieved that they didn’t have to worry about the tram at least. Even with Taret’s backing, he’d had a hell of a time getting everyone out of the hotel. A group of the Humans and Andorians — McCoy thought they had probably been hotel staff — were convinced they would be safe in the lavish pod structure. </p><p>McCoy was convinced Palenne got involved in the argument just to be a bigger pain in his ass. “Maybe they’re right, Taret. We haven’t been able to fix the ship, what makes you think the <i>catamite</i> can.”</p><p>While Taret calmly explained the rigors of an education at Starfleet Academy, McCoy breathed deeply and tried to let his (not at all distant) fury go. His headache throbbed. </p><p><i>Catamite</i>!</p><p>Deep inside though, Leonard knew that was just the first taste of what <i>everyone</i> would be thinking — would be saying — when they got back to the Enterprise. That was one of the reasons his little affair of the heart with Pasha was limited to Omicron Settlement. </p><p>“Lieutenant Chekov is a genuine genius.” McCoy said when he knew he could control his temper. “And that ain’t hyperbole. He’d have to lose a hundred I.Q. points just to be ‘smart.’ He can fix whatever tin can you’ve got sitting at the spaceport.”</p><p>“You’re just saying that so your widdle piece of tail can feel important.” Palenne taunted. </p><p>“Palenne!” Conner protested. </p><p>“His leettle piece of tail can speak for heemself.” Chekov said calmly from the doorway of the infirmary. “First, tell me vhat ees vrong vith zhe comms. Eef ve can fix eet, ve can use zhem to call our ship and zhey vill send a shuttle.”</p><p>“There are no comms.” One of the other Andorians said — McCoy thought her name was Beatrijn. “Not anymore.”</p><p>“Vhat!?” Chekov demanded just as McCoy said, “What??” </p><p>Taret stepped in. “The comms appear to have been scavenged for parts. Conner’s was not the only ship in need of maintenance.” </p><p>
  <i>…the mob of infected in the comms room in Carson… shivering in the tarp, listening to claws ripping at the tree trunk… Chekov’s eyes when he walked into the barrack room and found Leonard shirtless…</i>
</p><p>Russian curses blended with McCoy’s “Damn!” He’d been talking up Chekov’s very real intelligence and skill so Palenne wouldn’t treat him as superfluous. But he hadn’t thought they’d actually need a ship. McCoy had <i>really</i> been counting on the comms. The disappointment was intense. </p><p>
  <i>…swinging the jildur bat into the head of an infected person and watching it cave in and splatter gore… the Vulcan, so recently infected… Jim dead on the slab… Spock’s grief and fury…thinking the infected Vulcan was Spock… black eyes crying green tears… I can’t swing this bat at Spock!…</i>
</p><p>With a sigh, Chekov turned to Conner. “Vhat ees vrong vith your ship?” </p><p>“We don’t know.” Conner said. “We don’t!” She told Palenne when he protested. “<i>He</i> claims it was sabotage, but everyone was out of here so quickly when the pandemic hit — they didn’t even wait for all their people.” She made a sweeping gesture that included Taret, the Tellarites and the Orion. “No one took the time to sabotage <i>Maud</i>, Palenne.”</p><p>“I think the magnetic windup field is out of balance.” One of the Tellarites volunteered. “I reset it, but the impulse engine still wouldn’t ignite.” </p><p>“Eet’s a Devil Class Cargo Cruiser, zhen?” Chekov asked. The Tellarite nodded as Palenne fumed. “Deed you check zhe cooling system? Eet can effect zhe magnetic coils.” </p><p>“I didn’t. Don’t look at me like that, Palenne! I’ve never worked on a Devil Cruiser before. And you haven’t done routine maintenance on that can in years!” </p><p><i>Great</i>! Leonard thought, familiar panic squeezing his chest. <i>Ship hasn’t been maintained in years</i>! </p><p>“She’s right.” Conner told Palenne. “Every time I get a half decent wrench on crew, you drive them away with your winning personality.”</p><p>“Alright, alright!” McCoy broke in because they <i>had to stop talking about the ship</i>! “Sundown is in an hour. This conversation can wait until we’ve gotten there.” </p><p>“Doctor McCoy is correct.” Taret said. </p><p><i>…clacking teeth… Jim touching his face, leaning in, his eyes soft… Wals disappearing behind the wall of tortured black bodies… </i> </p><p>“Anyone who stays here will die. We are leaving in twenty minutes from the rear exit.” The Vulcan continued. “If you are not there, we will go without you.” </p><p>
  <i>…shooting infected from on top of the crashed hovercar… Jim walking away with Spock and Shirr… Jim in cadet reds, flirting with the Orion girl… </i>
</p><p>Ultimately, everyone left the hotel — McCoy even got all of them into bio-hazard suits. Yuhoohuu and the Tellarites hadn’t waited the twenty minutes, promising to have the tram running when the rest of them arrived. </p><p>They were still trotting across the lot towards the tramway when dusk fell. McCoy had hoped for another ten or fifteen minutes of sunlight — it wasn’t even really <i>dark</i>. But it was dark enough, the forests expanded outwards. Spontaneously they all began to run. </p><p>The pressure boot gave McCoy an asymmetrical lope, but he wasn’t holding anyone up. He just couldn’t think about what he was doing to his foot. He’d deal with that on the Enterprise. </p><p><i>…Jim in the captain’s chair… </i> </p><p>It took ten minutes for the closest infected to reach them. By then they were three hundred meters from the cargo tram. The Andorians in back were laying down heavy phaser fire and Palenne and the others in front had dropped back to flank the stretcher, hustling them along and keeping the way clear. Chekov, Taret, and most of the Humans were shooting at whatever got through the Andorians and came at them from the sides. </p><p>McCoy had a hand on the prybar as he clung to the stretcher, Conner right next to him dragging the medical supplies. Without the supplies, Corren had little chance. </p><p>
  <i>…the nauseatingly wet crunch when his prybar connected with a head… finding out Jos had fucked her lover in their bed…</i>
</p><p>He heard Chekov swearing loudly and looked up in time to see one of the stick figures coming at them with its jerking walk, its huge eyes trained on them. </p><p>
  <i>…“Bones, don’t say no…</i>
</p><p>Taret was engaged, shooting at three dark figures that were targeting the Humans, not seeing the danger coming up behind him. It was too close! McCoy swung the prybar, hitting it square in the head, dropping it to the ground. The spray of blood across both his and Taret’s bio-hazard suits turned McCoy’s stomach. </p><p>
  <i>…clubbing the infected child in the road… holding Jo’s hand as they walked across the road…</i>
</p><p>“Fascinating.” Taret said and McCoy wanted to slug <i>him</i> with the prybar. </p><p>
  <i>… Yours… Leo… all yours”… </i>
</p><p>Instead he put himself in the Vulcan’s space. “Keep your eyes open.” He snarled. “That one could have had you.” Taret’s impassive face darkened but he nodded. Then shot over McCoy’s shoulder at another infected. </p><p>
  <i>…Jim in the captain’s chair… soft blue eyes… Jim’s lips brushing his jaw…</i>
</p><p>McCoy could see that Varro had the cargo car open, and the Tellarites were defending it. But their group was swarmed. There were so many! They were overrun! </p><p>
  <i>…infected swarming at the riverside… infected following them from Carson…</i>
</p><p>Two of the Humans were just gone, pulled away by the clacking, clawing horde. McCoy could still hear one screaming. </p><p>
  <i>…Pasha’s cough, ripping at his lungs… </i>
</p><p>Yuhoohuu was outside the tramcar, picking off infected with her blaster. </p><p>
  <i>…Puuhoha sobbing, holding her child at arms length… </i>
</p><p>The Andorians were trying to shield the vulnerable species with their own bodies, but they didn’t like being bitten either. </p><p>
  <i>…Wals looking like the hero of a Eugenics War Holo…</i>
</p><p>McCoy got the stretcher with Corren on the cargo car and went back out to grab the medical sledge. Conner put herself between the infected and McCoy as he wrestled it on. </p><p>
  <i>…repelling an infected person with the container of rory-rua… one side of the container covered in strawberry jam…</i>
</p><p>As soon as it was in, McCoy tripped, the pressure boot rolling and dumping him on the floor with a dull throb in his foot. Without the nerve block, McCoy would have passed out from the pain. He staggered to his feet. </p><p>
  <i>…Pasha’s uncle tripping and falling on the pile of infected bodies… Pasha stumbling back, the axe clanging loudly against the tiles…</i>
</p><p>“Everyone in!” He hollered! “Everyone in the cargo car! Now!” Leonard searched for Pasha, starting to panic. He had to make it! </p><p><i>…holding Pasha’s hips, his cock sliding inside him… “yours, Leo”… </i> </p><p>Then Yuhoohuu hauled Pasha into the car, both of them still shooting. </p><p>
  <i>…holding Chekov against his chest in the bottom pod boat after his uncle’s death…</i>
</p><p>Taret and Conner came in with them. </p><p><i>…jerking hard against the restraints as the hovercar crashed… </i> </p><p>The Orion followed with an Andorian who’d been bitten. </p><p>
  <i>…the disruptor in his hand… pulling the disruptor’s trigger…</i>
</p><p>The Tellarites stood near the entrance, rifles poised, taking down any infected in their sites. </p><p>
  <i>… Jim in their room at the Academy, touching his face, leaning in…</i>
</p><p>One of the other Humans pelted into the car, crying and shouting, “Shutthedoorshutthedoorshutthedoor…” Another only slightly less hysterical followed. </p><p>
  <i>…the inky shadows between the buildings writhing…</i>
</p><p>“Where are the others?!” McCoy bellowed. This was taking too long! </p><p>
  <i>…Strong coming for him fast, crawling over the broken glass…</i>
</p><p>“They won’t leave the rations.” The Andorian who’d been bitten shouted, shooting three infected in quick succession. </p><p>
  <i>…Spock’s explosive grief… Kahn!…</i>
</p><p>McCoy pressed his face to the window. He saw the sledge with the food and water and the three remaining Humans angling it towards the cargo car. </p><p>
  <i>…losing himself in Pasha’s kisses… “Yours, Leo… all yours”… </i>
</p><p>Palenne, to his credit, knowing they wouldn’t leave it, was out there covering them with two of the Tellarites who had run out to help (they were apt to bite the infected back) and four Andorians that Palenne was deploying in an effective barrier. </p><p>
  <i>…opening an MRE to share with Pasha… popping a candy into Valohah’s mouth… Jim’s mouth against his jaw…butterflies in his stomach… </i>
</p><p>But there were simply too many of them. Infected behind the ones being shot pushed through and grabbed an Andorian and then the line was broken, and they were streaming towards the tramcar. </p><p>
  <i>…Pasha wringing his hands and watching him in the decontamination shower…</i>
</p><p>One of the Humans was swarmed right there in front of the group, screaming and thrashing as he was bitten with five mouths. </p><p>
  <i>…the infected trying to pull him back in the window where they would devour him… panic-fear-horror-regret-no-no-no…</i>
</p><p>Palenne shot the infected and killed the Human. </p><p>
  <i>…an explosion in the next room, the sound of keening stopping abruptly…</i>
</p><p>The Andorian grabbed another of the Humans and shouted something, dragging her into the car. She wasn’t resisting anymore — she was in shock. </p><p>
  <i>…Jim’s blue eyes soft… butterflies in his stomach… </i>
</p><p>Palenne sprayed the swarm with phaser fire, dropping almost fifty! But hundreds more jerked over their bodies, and hundreds more closed in on his right, their tortured walk and clacking mouths not nearly as monstrous as their endless, horifying inexorability. </p><p>
  <i>… Jim in cadet reds, flirting with the Orion girl… finding out Jos had fucked her lover in their bed… </i>
</p><p>The other Human almost made it, but was grabbed in the doorframe and bitten and one of the Tellarites pushed him out of the car even as he helped the Andorians in. </p><p>
  <i>…holding his disruptor on the prisoners… Jim sitting in the captain’s chair…</i>
</p><p>The doors were closing but infected were coming into the car! </p><p>
  <i>…infected swarming on the riverside… infected rushing at them from the comms room… </i>
</p><p>Palenne was bitten and he shouted and beat the creature’s head in with the butt of his rifle. </p><p>
  <i>…pulling the trigger of his disruptor…</i>
</p><p>Two others were shot, but one was coming towards Pasha! </p><p>
  <i>…“Let us have zhis together before eet ees too late”…</i>
</p><p>McCoy swung the prybar again, smashing its brains against the wall, ducking the spatter reflexively, despite the bio-hazard suit. Then he dropped the damned prybar, shuddering and almost hysterical, and grabbed Pasha. </p><p>
  <i>…black, jerky bodies coming towards them… Jim waking up, Kahn’s serum in his veins… Strong, black eyed and bloody, her teeth embedded in Rhys’ shoulder… “Please, before zhey come een here, give me zhis gift”… “Oh good! He’s seventeen!”… a severed arm, bite on the wrist, laying limp in a dried pool of blood… holding his disruptor on the prisoners… “Come on, Bones. You know how much I love you”… butterflies in his stomach… Jim in the captain’s chair… </i>
</p><p>Leonard held onto Pasha desperately, for the entire twenty minutes to the Spaceport. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Perhaps McCoy should have tried to convince the Vulcan some other way.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Amputation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>DAY SEVEN: night</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>McCoy made everyone take off their bio-hazard suits at the mouth of the tram car and leave them inside. Palenne, Rav, Beatrijn, Goe and Inniv had all suffered bites. He put one of the Tellarites, Booui-bo Robinson, in charge of examining their clothes and skin for contaminants, getting rid of the clothes and decontaminating their skin. </p><p>“I know you need treatment.” McCoy told the Andorians. “And you’ll get it. But right now, with the fluids on your clothes and skin, you’re dangerous. Conner is taking Chekov, Varro and Taret to her ship to start on repairs. You four —” McCoy waved at the three remaining Humans and the Orion, all of whom were in shock, one almost catatonic. “— are staying with me and Yuhoohuu. And the rest of you — I know it’s been done before but if you could assess this building as a stronghold against the infected — just in case the repairs take longer than we hope.” </p><p>“Who put you in charge?” Palenne grumbled. </p><p>“<i>I did</i>.” McCoy answered flatly. “When you can treat everyone’s wounds and stand in the direct chain of command to the one person who can fix the only ship in the yard, <i>you</i> can be in charge. Until then, just do what Booiu-bo asks, ok?” He handed Booiu-bo an industrial cannister of decontamination wipes. “Don’t be stingy.” He said. “If you can find showers, scrub them down. Get rid of every speck of blood and tissue — it’s virulently infectious. It would be best to just get rid of all the clothes of anyone who wasn’t wearing a bio-hazard suit. At least the outer layer. You cannot be too thorough.” </p><p>”What are we supposed to wear, <i>Captain</i>!?” Palenne snotted. </p><p>McCoy eyed him stubbornly. “I told you to wear the bio-hazard suits.” He snarled. “Honestly, I don’t care what you wear — if you can’t find station coveralls, go in your underwear. Hell, go naked for all I care. Just get rid of everything that’s contaminated.” </p><p>In the face of McCoy’s insistence, Palenne grumbled, but didn’t challenge him again. </p><p>“What bug got up his butt?” Yuhoohuu asked no one in particular after the Tellarite had led the injured Andorians away. </p><p>“We’ve all been on short rations for weeks.” The Orion said. McCoy still didn’t know his name. </p><p>“He’s like that because he’s hungry?” McCoy asked? “The Tellarites are OK and they don’t tolerate hunger well at all.” <i>At all</i>! No one got between a Tellarite and their dinner and lived to tell about it. </p><p>“Yeah, well, the Tellarites have been supplementing their rations with stuff they find in the forest. Stuff only they think is edible.” </p><p>“Right.” McCoy said. The Tellarites were notorious for what they would — and could — eat. “Still. You don’t think Palenne is overreacting? Maybe I should run a blood panel, see if there isn’t something else going on.” </p><p>“No.” The Orion said. “You don’t understand. There’s not enough food and Conner is pregnant.”</p><p>“And Palenne is Conner’s mate.” That actually <i>did</i> explain the hyper aggression and Palenne’s preoccupation with ‘more mouths to feed.’ This situation would be tripping every biological trigger he had. McCoy sighed. “Then the faster we get everyone somewhere with lots of food and no Zed-56-O.S. the better.”</p><p>Taret going to Conner’s ship — not being in close proximity to McCoy — seemed to quiet the disorientating echo chamber in his head somewhat, as did a lack of abject terror and having a bunch of complicating doctoring to do. It was a relief when the endless looping memories began to fade into the background. They weren’t <i>gone</i> but they weren’t making him want to pound a railroad spike into his brain any longer. So… that was good. </p><p>McCoy treated the shell-shocked Humans with warming blankets and sedated the catatonic. It wasn’t ideal — they all needed to be functional until they actually got off Omicron — but there was time for him to rest now. McCoy could hypo him with something that would have him raring to go if necessary. He put Yuhoohuu in charge of them, then checked on Corren. She was responding well to the phages he’d synthesized for her infection and was beginning to feel better already. It was time to have a difficult talk with her — better to do it now without Conner and Palenne around to react. </p><p>He asked her all the necessary questions, noted her answers and her readings in the medical PaDD. Then McCoy took a deep breath. </p><p>“Just tell me, Doctor McCoy.” She said. </p><p>“I think you probably know what I’m going to say, Corren. If we’d caught the bites sooner — like we are with your brother-in-law and the others — you would have healed completely. Unfortunately, a bacterial infection had time to set in and it has killed a significant amount of tissue. And that tissue needs to be removed. ”</p><p>Corren nodded, her face tense. </p><p>“The bite on your cheek and your shoulder, I can remove the affected tissue and regenerate the surrounding area. I’ll fuse it together, and with prolonged use of deep-tissue and dermal regenerators they will heal without much scarring. </p><p>“For the bites on your hand and lower arm, however, too much of the tissue is affected. I’m afraid you’re going to lose it from the elbow down.” McCoy sighed. “In medical school they say that now I should tell you about all the great advances in prosthetics and cloning. And there <i>are</i> good options out there when you’re ready for them. But I’m not gonna sugar coat this, it’s gonna be depressing as hell. If there were any way I could save your life without doing it, I would.” </p><p>“But there’s not.”</p><p>“No there isn’t. But you’ll still be able to hold your little niece or nephew… still be able to knock some sense into your brother-in law… you’ll still have your whole life ahead of you.” </p><p>“When?” Corren asked. “When will you do it?” </p><p>“Tonight.” McCoy told her. “As soon as I treat the other bites. We need to get you stabilized for space flight and ready for medical quarantine on a star ship. <i>Because we are getting off this damned hellscape as soon as possible</i>.” </p><p>“I’m for that.” Corren said with the ghost of a smile. </p><p>—-</p><p>McCoy treated the other Andorians’ bites, set up a sterile field and began Corren’s surgery. By the time  he’d finished with her arm and moved on to her shoulder, Chekov had Conner’s ship repaired and ready to go. </p><p>McCoy could tell he was excited when he sat down with the others on the far side of the sterile field. He smiled at the younger man, wishing he could hold him in his arms once more. McCoy didn’t know how much time they had left, if there would be any time to be together on the <i>Maud</i> or before isolation. His heart was full of things he wanted to say… things he never would say, but maybe if he held Pasha the way he wanted to, the kid would understand. </p><p>The jubilation of the other survivors felt at the prospect of leaving Omicron was rivaled only by their impatience when they realized they had to wait for McCoy to finish the surgery. Not for the first time, he was very glad that Conner and Corren were sisters. He was certain they’d be left behind otherwise. </p><p>The surgery took three hours in total and another hour after that of tissue regeneration to — just barely — stabilize Corren for travel. Everyone else was strapped in the Devil Cruiser waiting for them when McCoy and Palenne — Conner, Chekov and Varro had to be on the ship — escorted Corren’s stretcher across the stretch of open ground to the <i>Maud</i>. </p><p>Chekov was waiting for them in the open doorway, phaser rifle in hand. McCoy knew they were pushing it, the infected were on their way — Varro was tracking them on the <i>Maud</i>’s sensors, giving Palenne updates through his earpiece that made his antennae flail aggressively. “Hurry it up, Doc.” The big Andorian said. “Run!”</p><p>McCoy ran — the compression boot rolling on the eroding tarmac and almost dumping him on the ground. He kept himself upright by clinging to the quarantine stretcher, his fingers scrabbling over the transparent bubble under which Corren slept. As Palenne’s big hand gripped McCoy’s upper arm and lifted him onto his feet, he could hear the infected crashing through the underbrush that had sprouted at the edges of the spaceport. </p><p>“Leo!” Pasha cried, aiming the rifle and shooting. </p><p>McCoy began sprinting full-out, pushing the anti-grav stretcher ahead of him. </p><p>“Hurry!” Pasha cried. </p><p>McCoy heard Palenne swearing behind him, then sustained phaser fire. He was almost to the ship when he made the mistake of looking behind him. <i>It was right there</i>!</p><p>McCoy screamed! And ducked as its claws came down, snagging him. He thrashed, shoving the stretcher at the <i>Maud</i>’s door, and trying to twist away from the thing. <i>It couldn’t get him now</i>! He was <i>so close</i>!</p><p>Goddamnit! He couldn’t get loose. He heard its teeth clacking above his head. There was nothing he could do! Leonard would be one of the brain dead, black-eyed swarm after all. He felt angry tears welling in his eyes as he struggled, waiting for the bite. </p><p>Pasha, crying out, ran towards him. </p><p>
  <i>…“Uncle...!” Chekov screamed from the boat… “Daddy!” Jo cried as Jocelyn dragged her away…</i>
</p><p>“No!” Leonard shouted. Pasha needed to get on the ship! Pasha needed to survive! Leonard needed Pasha to survive!!</p><p>
  <i>…“I vould be wery lucky to be your lover, Leo”… </i>
</p><p>A wet crunch sounded behind him and Leonard fell forward, something heavy on his back. He tried to roll over and saw Palenne using the butt of his rifle on another infected running towards them. Chekov stood over Leonard, shooting, then grabbed the front of his pod cape and ripped it open. “Get eet off! Leo, get eet off!”</p><p>
  <i>…“Da! Lyonya! Harder!”… </i>
</p><p>The bitter cold roused him from the shock. Leonard wriggled out of the cape, out from under the smashed and bleeding corpse on his back, and let Pasha drag him through the door into the ship. </p><p>
  <i>…“Wals! Get to the shuttle!"... </i>
</p><p>Palenne was right behind him and three dozen infected were right behind the Andorian! He slapped the control to close the door and Palenne and Pasha shot and shot and shot until it was completely shut, long, black nails scrabbling in the crack until they broke off and fell to the floor. </p><p>
  <i>…black bodies between them, blood flowing from their dead, black eyes, teeth clacking…</i>
</p><p>Pasha dragged Leonard to the other side of the stretcher and began unsealing his jacket. “Get zhose clozhe off!” He yelled at Palenne. </p><p>
  <i>…Jim’s mouth pressing warm and wet against his jaw…</i>
</p><p>Jacket and sweater off, Pasha began wiping Leonard down with decontamination sheets, scouring his skin, rubbing his hair. He made a dismayed noise and started unsealing Leonard’s coverall. Leonard shoved it down and shook it and the one shoe he still wore off and Pasha kicked them towards the door. Pasha slathered decontamination fluid all over the outside of the compression boot. </p><p>
  <i>…he pulled Pasha up to lie next to him and kissed the come off his lips…</i>
</p><p>Palenne had removed his outer garments, rolling them inward to keep the gore contained, and was rubbing his blue skin with decontamination wipes. “Time to strap in, pink skins.” Palenne cackled, wiping an antenna. </p><p>
  <i>...“Bones, don’t say no”…</i>
</p><p>“Ve made eet, Leo.” Pasha said, breathless with joy. </p><p>
  <i>…“You’re so beautiful, darlin.’”…</i>
</p><p>“We’re not in the air yet.” Leonard reminded him. And he should be quarantined for two hours before he could really claim to have made it. But he forced a smile for Pasha. “Almost home.” </p><p>
  <i>…“I’ll make you feel so good”…</i>
</p><p>Leonard guided Corren’s stretcher into the passenger lounge and strapped it to a bulkhead. </p><p>
  <i>…“Ve are friends, yes? After today?”…</i>
</p><p>She was sedated and strapped down inside her quarantine stretcher — she would have an easier ride than any of them. Easier than Leonard anyway, between the exposure to the virus and anticipating take off in this rickety can, he was already sweating through his clothes. Well, sweating through his thermal underwear, that’s all the clothes he had left. </p><p>
  <i>…“Vhat do your friends call you?”...</i>
</p><p>“Leo.” Chekov — Pasha — wrapped his arms around him tightly, resting his head on Leonard’s shoulder. “I checked eweryzhing out. Zhe ship ees safe. Eet vill fly us out of zhe atmosphere and zhen ve vill call zhe Enterprise.” </p><p>“And this nightmare will be over.” McCoy said. Pasha’s arms around him dimmed the spiraling memories. Leonard sighed with relief. </p><p>“Da.” Pasha stretched up and tried to kiss him. “Zhis nightmare vill be ower.”</p><p>“Don’t.” Leonard said. “If I’m infected...” </p><p>“You aren’t!” Pasha insisted. He stretched up again, but Leonard turned his face and Pasha’s lips landed on his jaw. </p><p>
  <i>…Jim’s mouth bussing his jaw…</i>
</p><p>“Pashenka.” Leonard said softly, running his fingers through Pasha’s lovely, disheveled curls. “I would never forgive myself if I infected you…” He chuckled bitterly. “OK, I wouldn’t know, I guess… but you understand what I’m saying. If there’s even a chance…” He pressed his lips to Pasha’s hair — that should be safe, shouldn’t it? “My Pashenka.” </p><p>“I understand, Leo.” Pasha said. He didn’t release Leonard, but snuggled against his chest, and nuzzled his neck. “And een two hours, you vill kiss me.” </p><p>“Let’s hope by then we’re on the Enterprise in quarantine being debriefed by some irritating government type. Or Spock.” </p><p>Pasha giggled. “Da… but after zhat, Leo, you vill kiss me?” </p><p>“Yeah. Of course I will.” </p><p>Leonard held the kid tight. He couldn’t help but feel they were saying goodbye — to Omicron and everything good and bad that had happened there. Leonard made it count, trying to tell Pasha <i>everything</i> through that embrace, petting his hair and stroking his back. </p><p>But it was over too soon, and they had to strap into their seats for liftoff — not together, McCoy was by Corren and Chekov was at Comms. He should have known the ending would be like this — abrupt, hurried, no time to be alone, no time to talk — no idea what to say — just wanting to kiss Pasha, but unable to, his aviophobia making him nauseous.</p><p>Listening to Conner and Palenne initiate the ignition sequence, McCoy shut his eyes tightly — but that didn’t help one bit. His heart raced and he felt dizzy. Sweat dripped down his spine. He was utterly convinced that the rattletrap of a ship was going to explode, and they would all die. Leonard was <i>never</i> getting off goddamned Omicron!</p><p>Needing some reassurance — and knowing it could be found in the calm confidence of Lieutenant Chekov at his station — he opened his eyes and looked for Pasha. The beautiful kid was twisted around to see Leonard and he mouthed something that could have been “home soon” or “love you.” </p><p>With the engines rumbling underneath him and the entire ship shuddering, McCoy would take either one. </p><p>Omicron radiation made traversing the atmosphere even more difficult than usual and with the <i>Maud’s</i> rudimentary shields McCoy was certain the ship was going to be pulled apart. <i>That’s just typical!</i> He raged internally. <i>I actually get out of this apocalyptic hell just to die in a damn shuttle explosion! JUST LIKE I ALWAYS KNEW I WOULD! </i> </p><p>It felt like they rattled through the rough atmosphere for an eternity. But suddenly the teeth-jarring, ear-piercing, roaring, clanking and juddering stopped, and McCoy felt the lack of gravity all around him. <i>They were off of Omicron</i>!!!</p><p>THEY WERE OFF OMICRON! </p><p>McCoy had never ever been happier to be in the cold vacuum of space. There were a million ways to die out here and <i>none of them</i> were the living death of Zed-56-O.M! They’d done it! Seven goddamned days, but they’d done it! </p><p>His jaw ached from gritting his teeth and there was not a muscle on McCoy’s body that wasn’t knotted with tension. He stank of fear sweat and decontamination fluid and a sock and underwear that had been worn too many days in a row. His foot throbbed in a way he was sure it shouldn’t with a nerve block. And he’d never felt better! He was free! Pasha was free! </p><p>That made McCoy happiest of all — Pasha had lived. Pasha would live. The brilliant kid could have a long and fulfilling life — an important life! If McCoy never did anything else, he could point to Pavel Chekov and all his future accomplishments and know he’d helped make it possible. </p><p>Pasha’s eyes sought McCoy’s and he smiled, his face shining vividly. God, the kid was beautiful! Nodding once, Pasha turned to his station, pressed several buttons on the panel and leaned in. </p><p>“Dewil Cruiser <i>Maud</i> hailing Enterprise... Zhis ees Dewil Cruiser <i>Maud</i> hailing Enterprise...”</p><p>...<i>Pavel! Pasha, is that you!?</i>...</p><p>McCoy recognized Uhura’s voice and thought it had never sounded quite so lovely. </p><p>“Yes! Zhis ees Pasha... I mean, Lieutenant Pavel Chekov... eet’s me Nyota!” </p><p>...<i>Chekov! Chekov you’re alive! </i>... </p><p>A different voice this time, one McCoy knew almost as well as his own. </p><p>“Yes, Keptin.”</p><p>...<i>Chekov... tell me... is... is Bones with you? </i>...</p><p>McCoy could hear the hope and fear in his best friend’s voice. </p><p>“Yes, Keptin! Doktor McCoy ees vith me. Ve are both vell and looking forvard to being back on zhe Enterprise wery much!” </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sequel coming soon! </p><p>The Enterprise begins the search for the author of the Zed-56-O.M. virus while McCoy deals with his injury, his feelings for Chekov, the appropriateness of a relationship with such vast differences in age and rank, and Chekov's feelings for him, AND fields an unexpected romantic overture from someone who missed him very much while he was lost on Omicron.</p><p>Subscribe to the series for updates! Thank you for reading — I appreciate all ten of you! And your comments are the best!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi Star Trekkies! This fic is long and completely written! So I'll be updating regularly as I write the sequel, so subscribe for notifications.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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